


Cold and Beautiful

by whisperingink



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingink/pseuds/whisperingink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am still far, far stronger than you, Elizabeth...I must ask you to not forget that."<br/>And she never will. After the demon rips away the life she's come to know, Lizzie's prepared to dive into the underworld Ciel tried so hard to keep her away from if it means she will gain vengeance against the demon who took everything away. Due to an unlikely meeting, she finds a way to strengthen herself further against against she never knew existed. However, she soon realizes that Ciel wasn't the only one good at concealing information from her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lady, Breaking

The room is cold. Her hands are numb and she can hardly feel the icy metal of her weaponry against her fingers. The chill of the swords are no match for the cold fury she harbors deep within her soul now.

"Why?" she asks, her voice quivering as she takes in the sight before her. Ciel, on the ground. Dead. So very tiny in death, even at the age of sixteen. His soft hair, glowing softly in the darkness, fell against his white forehead like silver filigree. The eyepatch is gone. Both eyes are closed. How, Ciel? How did you get into this? she wonders, desperately trying to keep her arms from shaking, What happened all those years ago so that you came to meet Sebastian? Why did you never tell me any of this? I was to be your wife...

"Please do not take it personally," Sebastian says in a luxurious, satiated voice, dripping with the molten chocolate she remembers he enjoys using so often in his baking, "Consider it more of a business transaction. You were around Ciel long enough to have picked up some semblance of the business world he ran, right? Despite you wanting to be a proper, darling, cute girl..." the chocolate in his voice replaces itself with razors, deep and burning, cutting into all of her old insecurities she'd pushed aside after Ciel reassured her that he did love her, swordplay and all. Sebastian steps over Ciel's body, removing his gloves and displaying his perfect, unmarred white hands. Not the hands of a killer. Or a butler. "Clever Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford, wife to the queen's watchdog," he sneered, "Ciel never feared that you would discover us, he never suspected that his cute little fiancee watched us from the shadows. Such a lady, you are." That will not work, you demon.

"I am a daughter of the British Knights first and a lady second," she says, using all her effort now to keep her voice from quavering, "The events of that ship happened three years ago, Sebastian. You can't toy with my fears of impropriety anymore. Humans grow, they change. But a demon stays the same forever, doesn't he?" Elizabeth asks, caught between feeling nauseous at the sight of him and curious about his existence. The corners of Sebastian's lips quirk upward and his red eyes narrow with pleasure.

"A demon is as inconstant as the moon, my lady," he says, giving the proper words a tinge of malice, "I take the form of whomever my master or mistress chooses for me. This form suited Ciel the best...and I think you know for what reasons." His tongue slides out over his lips, licking them in a lewd manner as he casts his gaze down at Ciel's body. A fresh anger bubbles up inside Elizabeth as she watches the man who obviously debauched Ciel before murdering him reminisce about their former activities.

"How...how DARE you!" she screams, flying at him with a calculated speed garnered by over a decade of training with her mother. She is fast, her curls and dressing gown flying out behind her in a flurry of flaxen gold and white, but he is faster. He is not human. He catches her by the waist and throws her back to the ground after she'd barely sliced through his sleeve. Sebastian looks over at the ruined fabric with an expression of shock and disgust.

"A human damaged my clothes. Hmm. That is a first. I suppose that delicious feast has made me tired...but I am still far, far stronger than you, Elizabeth," he whispers, his hands moving to pin her shoulders down, "I must ask you to not forget that. Now, you assume that I am never changing. You are wrong, my lady. On the contrary, I am ever changing. With every soul I consume, I gain something, whether it be knowledge or desire or a quirk. It's nothing but a side effect, but it is there. I feel Ciel's soul running through me now...he did not scream, I hope you know. But you would've heard a scream. You would've been faster if it was a scream, instead of the toppling of a chair."

"Stop," Elizabeth says, trying to muster up the strength she'd once had in her voice, "You...you bloody disgusting demon! I will slice you from limb to limb, I will gouge your eye out for Ciel and spit in the socket!" her voice is a snarl, feral and wild, and Sebastian lets her go with a surprised expression, allowing her to spring to her feet, "I am a girl, a lady if you must say so, but I am also one hell of a fiancee," she spat, "And I will NOT let Ciel's death be in vain!"

She expects Sebastian to look amused. But he doesn't. He looks passive, as if it's the same tripe he's heard before. He taps his chin with his long index finger for a solid minute, appraising her. She should run. She should grab her swords, at least, although she suspects they wouldn't do her much good. She should be like a damsel and scream herself hoarse.

"I will not consume you," Sebastian says, "Not right now, at least. Elizabeth...Ethel...Cordelia...Middleford." He rolls her name on his lips, savoring every vowel and consonant, "Because while you are a flighty little girl, you are an intriguing one. It's rare that humans intrigue me. Perhaps it runs in the family?" He leans in close to her, and she does not flinch, she allows the murderer of her fiance to brush his hand against her cheek and bring it back up to his nose to inhale.

"The perfume of hatred...vengeance...hurt...repression. A twisted state for a twisted girl," he leers, "Your soul is a type of wine, as Ciel's was. It will grow even finer over time. All those things shall fester within you like a wound until they engulf you and leave you broken and waiting for me to come and devour you. However, I cannot allow you to tell other people about me. I am bound by a certain law to keep my kind a secret. So...like Mr. Wordsmith...I shall silence you in a different way."

And then she stares. She stares. Stares. So much. She can't look away. She can't blink. She can't scream. She can only stand, her feet locked to the ground as she watches him change, watches the skin stretch, the colors change, his eyes redden further and then she's crumpling to the ground and shaking, convulsing, her gown twisting around her body in a sweaty mess as she screams and cries into the ground out of fear and horror. Footsteps sound. She hears a voice. It's Finnian's. The gardener. The strongest. Sebastian is gone. Gone. With her chance. And her swords are...she doesn't know. And Ciel is there. Cold and beautiful. Just like when he lived. She wonders if he's at peace.

Finnian starts screaming and she falls unconscious.

She can hardly remember what happened the first day she came back to the human world. Mother was there. Edward was there. He'd been crying, hard, his face soaked with tears and his eyes red from worry. Mother was more dignified. Father was not there, but not because he wasn't worried. He was looking for Ciel's murderer, because he knew that's what she'd wanted.

He does not know he'll never find him. Only she can. Because he'll come back for her, someday...

Upon opening her eyes, Edward engulfs her in a hug, wrapping his arms around her and crying unabashedly into her shoulder, seeming more like a four year old than a twenty four year old. She's terrified him. Her mother begins to quietly sob into a handkerchief before she too joins them. She still says nothing. After the first few moments of relief, Mother notices something is off. She makes Edward leave. Mother asks her questions. Tears silently roll down her cheeks.

Mother does not make her go to Bedlam. It would shame the family. So, she stays in her room, curled up in bed with the curtains drawn and the stuffed rabbit he gave her so many years ago clutched to her chest. The first day of solitude is numb. So is the second. Rage, emotion, and fear do not build up until the third day. The memories of that night flood back. Everything spins in her brain.

Nightmares take up the next three days. Six days of hell in her room. Daytimes are fine, with Edward and Mother and Paula. It's the nighttimes that worry her. She found him at night. Those eyes glowed reddest in the night. Those red eyes, growing redder by the second...when she dreams of that transformation, she wakes up screaming. And she often dreams of it.

She thinks nobody could ever come to help her, save her, do something to alleviate her pain.

And then he arrives on the seventh night.

She wakes up muffling her screams with a pillow, for she cannot bear Paula and Mother rushing in with cod liver oil or some other kind of disgusting remedy. There is no medicine to help her, not one in this world at least. The moment she comes to her senses, she realizes there is something off about her room. There's a presence that definitely isn't human. Her first reaction is to cry and scream and attack. But then she realizes that it isn't him.

"You aren't on my list...strange," a man's voice, youthful and confused, says. Elizabeth shoots up in bed, her hair falling out of her loose plaits. There is a man there, and her first reaction is to scream for Edward. But she stifles that when she sees it isn't Sebastian. It is a boy, maybe only a few years older than her at the most, with two-tone gold and brown hair and the most startling green eyes she's ever seen.

"What list?" she asks, gathering her sheets up around her chest in a conditioned effort to conceal herself, "Who are you?" The boy's eyes widen, and she can tell he's made a mistake.

"Nothing. I screwed up, again. I'll probably have to do overtime...damn," he curses, turning back to her, "When you shut your eyes...you won't remember. Don't worry, I'm one of the good guys, and I'd never hurt a pretty girl like you-"

"You're not a human," she says, her voice hushed and hurried as she swings her legs over the bed and leaps out, touching to the ground softly. The boy seems taken aback by this sudden change in events.

"Woah, you should go back to sleep, I have work to do. Next time, try not to sound like one of the dying; it made me mix up an address. Really, when you shut your eyes, you'll forget me and be better off for it."

"You're not human, but you're not a demon either. What are you?" she asks, inquisitive and relentless in finding out what this boy is-and most importantly, if he can help her. His bright green eyes darken, and he looks down at her with a mix of confusion and intrigue.

"How...how does the daughter of a Marchioness," he squints, as though he's looking straight through her, "Seventeen years of age and a pure English rose...how do you know about demons?" She pauses, but keeps her eyes trained on him.

"I asked you first." This seems to humor the boy, and he holds out his hand to her to shake.

"Ronald Knox. Grim reaper, London branch. Now you." A reaper, she thinks, the images of scythes and hooded faceless figures popping into her brain, the exact opposite of the young, handsome boy.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford. Former fiancée of the Queen's watchdog, Ciel Phantomhive, whom one Sebastian Michaelis killed. And...and...I've seen you!" she gasps, stepping back from him and pointing, one hand covering her mouth, "You were on the ship with us four years ago! You and that redhead! You helped me kill the undead!" Ronald Knox looks positively bewildered for a moment before realization dawns on his face.

"Fourteen year old swordswoman. It's hard to forget a girl like that...or a team like Phantomhive and Michaelis. So he finally ate that soul, did he? Hmm...took a little longer than I thought-"

"Don't you dare speak so flippantly about him," she snaps, with more venom in her voice than she should use, "Ciel was a good man. A good fiancé. He deserves respect. And yes, before you ask, I know everything. Yes, everything," she glares, and Ronald Knox puts his hands up in surrender.

"I believe you, Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford," he says, "Really, I do. I'm a little curious how you came to figure it out, though. Demon scum aren't supposed to reveal themselves."

"I saw him kill Ciel a week ago," she says, and it's easier to say than she thought it would be. "I saw the demon form. He promised to come back and eat my soul too...and so I've just been in this room ever since, trying to forget." She finds herself thinking about that ship...about what else she'd seen Ronald Knox do. A strange whirring device pops into her brain, the thing he'd used to decapitate the monsters. She remembered him aiming it at Sebastian.

"...I'm going to have so much overtime now," the boy groans, but the annoyance doesn't show in his eyes. She can tell she interests him.

"Do you still have that weapon you used to kill the undead?" she asks. He gestures to her newly opened window. The thing is just sitting there.

"It's my transportation. And, well, sorry Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford," he says, with a cheeky grin that clashes with his formal suit, "But I have some more souls to reap." He moves, faster than she expected, for the device, but she catches his arm the moment he grabs hold of his weapon.

"Help me," she pleads. Ronald Knox looks taken aback.

"Excuse me?" he asks. She nods.

"I want to kill Sebastian Michaelis. I am human. I am skilled with swords, but they cannot kill him. I figured that out a week ago. I am...I am furious, I am vengeful, I'm probably going mad and this is a dream, but I don't care. I only want to kill the demon who killed my fiance." She realizes after speaking that she was probably overly dramatic and not at all serious sounding, but if Ronald Knox thinks that, he doesn't show it. He stares at Elizabeth, as though he's trying to memorize the contours of her face. After a few moments, he grins broadly and links his arm with hers.

"I'm not one to turn down a pretty lady now, am I?" he asks, "And I'm definitely not the kind of man who shies away from the fun. And you, lovely Miss Middleford, are definitely going to be loads of fun. Hold on tight." Before she can say anything, he swings her around and pulls her onto the strange, whirring device with him, and then they're in the air and she can't quite comprehend anything anymore. They're flying. She's still in her nightdress! The white fabric is thin and cool against her skin, and the night air plays with her loose waves as they speed over London.

She feels a fire growing within. For the first time since seeing Ciel lying cold and dead on the ground, she has a fighting chance against Sebastian. And she intends not to waste a single moment of it.


	2. The Lady, Flying

Ronald Knox is a reckless flier, but not in a way that makes Lizzie feel scared. Rather, she feels exhilarated. The night is not quiet, for his killing machine that doubles as transportation makes loud, steady grinding noises that contrast with the appearance and mannerisms of the reaper quite dramatically. Lizzie didn't expect a reaper to be one to keep up with fashion, but his suit is cut to fit the fashion of the fall season and his oxford shoes shine, newly polished. His appearance makes it very hard to tell his age, for while the shape of his face is youthful and his clothes are new, his striking eyes make him seem centuries older. He talks rapidly, and she can tell he'd be the kind to speak with his hands, were he not holding onto her waist and the handle of his weapon.

Normally, she'd feel apprehensive of being so close to a man who is not her fiancé, and she'd feel downright mortified of being seen in such immodest clothing, but somehow this ageless reaper puts her at ease. Even before Ciel's death, her hobbies always included walking on eggshells around all men. Perhaps it's because Ronald Knox does not look down her dress or move his hand down to the curve of her hip; he keeps his eyes locked on hers and chatters away, telling her stories of misadventures as a reaper and some of the run-ins he and some of his colleagues had had with Sebastian and Ciel. It's the first time she's heard Ciel's name used so cajolingly around her, especially in the past week, and it does not send her into a frenzy, as she knows her mother feared, but it interests her.

"Mr. Knox," she says, tightening her grip on him as they take a sharp swerve around a chapel, interrupting his story about the first time he'd encountered the two, "Aren't you afraid someone will see us? We're flying rather noisily over a crowded area…" unconsciously, she presses her legs together to keep her skirt from flying up while hovering over the people. Ronald Knox throws his head back and laughs, a loud and raucous noise she's hardly heard in proper society, shaking his head down at her.

"Humans are so hilarious, who knew? I'm a reaper. I may not look like anything special, Miss Liz, but I've got a few tricks hidden up my sleeve. The moment you grabbed onto my arm, you became undetectable. Cool, isn't it?" A thrill rushes through her. It's magic. It's incredible, storybook magic about invisibility. Ronald Knox is an intriguing creature, with his strange manner of speaking and odd slang, and a fresh wave of excitement runs through Lizzie as she imagines what kind of world he's planning on showing her. Her insides feel so light that she briefly thinks that she would probably just float away if she let go of Ronald Knox.

"Well don't just make me do all the talking, Mademoiselle Elizabeth, lovely English rose," Ronald Knox teases, grinning at her as he adopts a plummy tone, "Make me think humans aren't complete bores who can't stop dying all over the place and make me work overtime. Now, I don't pay much attention to your world, other than the clothes, but it's been awhile since I saw women fight like you do without being thrown out of prim n' proper society. You even went after a reaper with your swords on that ship!"

"I did?" she asks, her eyes bugging out, "I don't remember trying to stab you…" Ronald Knox shakes his head, mussing his messy golden brown hair even further.

"Nah, you didn't go after me, but you sure confused to hell out of Grell. Tall, long red hair, sharp teeth, used to be fairly mad for Sebastian…" he says, listing off all of the characteristics and smirking when he says the last one. The hazy image of the redhead swims in her brain, and she remembers well enough to nod in understanding.

"I suppose I should apologize someday…" she says. Ronald Knox shakes his head.

"If I were you, I wouldn't bother mentioning it. Grell gets over that kind of stuff easily. Now, tell me more about yourself, if you don't mind." Lizzie opens her mouth, but pauses. What's is there to tell about me? I'm a noblewoman with a penchant for swordplay and a desire to kill a demon. Other than that, I'm not horribly interesting…although I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say some of the basics. She starts to speak, but then sees Ronald Knox grimace.

"I'll actually have to take a rain check on your story. Time to make a landing." And before Lizzie can react, Ronald Knox makes a sharp turn, heading straight down towards an old, run down looking building. After stifling a scream of surprise, she focuses her attention on the lettering of the building: UNDERTAKER.

"You live in a mortuary?" she asks, incredulous, and Ronald Knox laughs again, like she's bright and witty.

"Nah, there's just a door in there we need. And a gatekeeper. He's an eccentric man, retired reaper or something similar, I don't really know his true identity. But I'm pretty sure your fiancé had some dealings with him. He's referenced a humorless child enough," he jokes, his humor macabre, but the accusation towards Ciel something Lizzie cannot refute. Ciel did not joke after the kidnapping. He just didn't. Ronald Knox skids the machine along the ground, making a horrible screeching noise before bringing the whole thing to a halt. He lightly steps onto the ground, offering his hand to Lizzie like a gentleman. However, the smirk playing on his mouth tells Lizzie that he is anything but sincere about his mannerisms. Still, she takes his hand and steps down, her dress swirling about in the night air.

The door creaks as it swings open, and a pale hand with long fingers, the nails painted an unmistakable deep black, curl around the edge. A low laugh, familiar to Lizzie, rises up in the night. She knows this man. Well, she does not know him personally, but she has attended enough events with him. He assisted Ciel, helped him be a perfect watchdog.

"Hello, Mr. Undertaker, sir," she says, curtseying, much to Ronald Knox's astonishment. She gives the young reaper a sideways glance, "My fiancé tried to keep me ignorant of his dealings with the underworld, but he did not try very hard, I'm afraid." The door opens fully, and the long fingers beckon the two of them to come in, the quiet giggles never ceasing.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise treat," Undertaker laughs, "Miss Elizabeth Middleford…fiancée to the late Ciel Phantomhive…human as they come. And Ronald Knox, reaper, most definitely not human and far too old for a pretty girl like her. Tell me how you two ended up on the same path, would you? I'm starved for a good laugh." Ronald Knox keeps his face straight as he talks to the Undertaker.

"I am taking her into the world with me. You know I'm at the rank where I can, if I want to. There's no precedent for it either," he says, defending his choice to bring her along in the same way a child defends eating an extra cookie. The Undertaker's smile spreads wide over his thin lips, and, though his bangs are heavy as ever, Lizzie can tell he's fixing his eyes on her.

"But you don't have enough souls to get both of you through the door without my help," he says, still gazing at Lizzie, "And you know my payment, Knox. Now, Miss Elizabeth…would you like to tell me why you have joined forces with a reaper so shortly after your fiancé's passing?" his tone implies she's a whore, that much she can tell, naïve as she may be. Nevertheless, she keeps her composure and looks at him straight on.

"I know that you know Ciel's death was not a tragic accident, as the papers make it out to be. It was Sebastian Michaelis. A vicious, horrible demon." She takes a deep breath, staring down at her feet before snapping her head back up, "I'm going to kill him."

She never expected the Undertaker to burst out laughing. But he does, doubling over with guffaws for a solid three minutes. Three, awkward minutes where she exchanges several even more awkward looks with Ronald Knox. He mutters, "It'll pass, Miss Elizabeth. Then we'll be in the clear." The crazed mortician stops laughing as abruptly as he started, the twisted grin still in place.

"You've more than paid your fee with that wonderful joke, Miss Middleford. Now, I'll escort you both to the door. After that, she's in your hands, Knox. I'll stay here with my lovely corpses." She tries to suppress her shudder, but a small shiver runs up her spine anyways. Ronald Knox nudges her forward, and she takes a step into the building. The air smells of incense and chemicals, an overpowering stench that almost knocks her off her feet. How on earth did Ciel manage it in here? she wonders, staggering a little as she walks through the front room, following the Undertaker to the back and trying to ignore the half covered corpses that lay on the tables.

"Such a downright shame…such an awful waste," the Undertaker mutters, and she can't tell whether or not he meant for her to hear him. Ronald Knox is right behind her, practically hovering, and it's evident to her that he hardly trusts the Undertaker. She remembers them fighting on the ship so many years ago, and it's still confusing to her. However, she leaves it alone. They walk through the back door and find themselves in a fairly ordinary looking room, puzzling her. At the very back, there is a tiny door, barely big enough for a child to get through. The Undertaker turns around to look down at them.

"Your cinematic record quota will be needed to re-enter, of course," the Undertaker says, his deep voice the only sound in the run down building. Ronald Knox nods and fishes into his pocket, pulling out a small sack, which he hands to the Undertaker. Lizzie watches as the Undertaker barely opens the door, tossing the small bag in, which lands on the other side with a disproportionately loud thump. He shuts the door, and Lizzie watches as a small glow shines through the crack, vanishing almost immediately. The white-haired man leans in close, whispering words in a strange language to the wood, as though he's instructing it. Then, to her astonishment, the door begins to grow upward and out, stretching along the wall until it forms big, mahogany wood double doors.

"'Til next time, Undertaker," Ronald Knox mutters as the grey-haired man nods at them, leering at Lizzie.

"I'll have a nice coffin saved for you, just in case you don't make it back quite yourself, Miss," he cackles, sweeping out of the room and leaving the two of them alone. The words trigger the apprehension the adrenaline gained from flying stifled. I am going to a realm of reapers and death with a supernatural man I met barely an hour ago. Although she keeps her face composed, Ronald Knox apparently realizes she's nervous. He turns to her with a serious expression, awkwardly placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Liz," he says, using the borderline annoying nickname once more, "I'm not a demon. You've got to remember that death doesn't equal dark, or we'll never get anything done. Vengeance oughta be sweet, not soured, right?" he asks, the cheeky grin back on his face. The man steps forward, placing his fingers on a handle and outstretching his other hand to her. "Mr. Undertaker went ahead and made sure the door won't automatically burn you alive. Still, you can't get through this door alone. At least, not if you're human." The way he says human irks her. Are all supernatural creatures so high and mighty? She wonders, setting her mouth in a firm, determined line and grasping his broad hand, I do believe it may be my job to show them what a true English rose, as he called me, is capable of.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, staring into her eyes in a way that suggests he expects her to swoon. Lizzie glares at him, a warning to not flirt with a still grieving lady.

"Honestly, hardly," she says, pursing her lips. The truth seems to satisfy Ronald Knox, for he merely shrugs his shoulders.

"Fair enough."

He swings the door open and yanks her into a room of blinding white light.


	3. The Lady, Exploring

She doesn't feel like she's flying. Instead, she feels suspended in midair as the world zooms by her in a blur of colorful light, twisting around her immobile body, the rays tickling the bottom of her bare feet. Normally, she'd feel exhilarated like she did when flying over London, but now she just feels nervous. Scared, even.

"Mr. Knox?" she calls, as her hair swirls around in front of her face, obscuring her vision. Nobody answers her. When she finally moves her long hair from in front of her eyes, she screams, her body tensing up as she struggles to move back away to the door. She can't. The bright, soft colors that teased her skin are vanished, replaced with black clouds and streaks of silver, twisting into grotesque images of corpses and skulls, closing in on her quicker by the second. "Mr. Knox!" she screams again as a silver snake comes dangerously close to biting her leg. She tries to strike out and hit one of the silver figures with a well-aimed punch, but her hand passes through and the thing is unharmed. She's done nothing more than enrage it. Oh Elizabeth, you are such a stupid, stupid girl for running off with a reaper only a week after Ciel's passing, it's always said that vengeance will kill you if stupidity doesn't first…

Then Lizzie feels a hand grab onto her arm, yanking her away from the cluster of silver creatures, pushing her in a different, brighter direction. Ronald Knox is there, brandishing his bulky, whirring weapon as a threat to the creatures that closed in on her. His eyes flash behind his glasses, glinting in the light of wherever they are. And here I used to believe there was just heaven and hell, she thinks as she watches almost frightening expression on Ronald Knox's face.

"You will not take her," he growls, clenching his teeth together and pressing a button that makes the engine of his weapon roar, similar to a wild animal's. The silver beings scatter, and he turns around to face her.

"What on earth were those things?" she calls as he zooms over to her. She grabs onto his machine, lifting herself back onto it as they continue traveling through…she still doesn't know where they are.

"You could call them a sort of…guard system," he says, taking a few seconds to decide on the phrase, "Basically, they're supposed to drag away anyone who isn't a reaper. Like demons. They didn't really know what to make of you, Miss Liz, that's why they hesitated. We're almost there, don't worry. And don't go floating off like that again, it's a downright hassle." He smirks and her cheeks flush hotly. A burst of shame rushes through her, and Ciel's face swims in her brain once more. Remember the reason why you're here, Elizabeth.

"Don't call me Miss Liz, it makes me sound like a common girl," she mumbles, leaning forward on the bar of the weapon. Realizing she still had no idea just what the machine was, she asks, "And what is this thing, anyways, Mr. Knox? Why did it scare off those things?" Ronald Knox looks down at her with an expression of curiosity.

"It's my death scythe. I call it a mower. And Miss Liz, you could never be associated with a street girl," he promises, lifting his head up to look ahead. She feels lucky he never got to see her expression. "We're here. Brace yourself."

Another portal of light, similar to the one they crossed through to enter the realm between the worlds, is only a few meters in front of them. Lizzie squeezes her eyes shut and grips tightly to the handle of the mower, her body stiffening as she passes through a burst of dry heat into a room of cool air.

"You can open your eyes now," Ronald Knox chuckles, "And, Miss Liz," he whispers, leaning into her ear while her eyes are still squeezed shut, as she is still afraid to see what the realm of death looks like, "You can just call me Ronald. I'm too young for Mr. Knox." Lizzie opens her eyes to look at him, but instead finds herself distracted by the reaper realm.

It's…white. And clean. She's never seen a room, let alone a building, so white and minimal, lacking in Turkish tapestries or lush colors. Her instinct a few years ago would have been to call for a bucket of richly colored paint, but now she is too much in awe of how huge the facility is to do anything other than stare. Men and women hurry around them, some with long scythes slung over their shoulder, others with stacks of paper in their arms, all in freshly pressed black suits—even the women wear pants! She blushes, looking away out of reflex before she realizes that she's more immodestly dressed than they are, in her white nightgown with her hair hanging loosely down her back.

"Keep your wits about you, human," Ronald says, offering his arm to her, "And go ahead and accept me as an escort before you get snatched away by some of the more frantic soul gatherers." Without questioning him, she grabs onto his arm and allows him to start walking her through the swarm of people. Nobody notices her, at first, for they are all too busy with their job. Then, the buzzing starts, growing louder as people begin to notice that Ronald Knox is walking through the apparent lobby of the reaper headquarters with a girl who appears to be a human dressed in nothing but a nightgown on his arm.

"Are you sure there's no hostility to humans here?" she whispers, looking up at Ronald, who shakes his head. A woman with a high, black bun and striking features walks past them with twin pairs of guns in either hand, both of them bearing a similar inscription.

"Only level three reapers and below carry scythes," Ronald explains, "I'm level four. The highest is level seven. I've got at least another few decades. At least I've got my special scythe now, like that woman," he says, thumbing back toward the portal, where she sees that a team of men with tools tend to Ronald's machine. As Ronald keeps talking to her, the feel of uneasiness settled in her stomach just grows.

"I feel like something bad will happen soon," she thinks. Ronald shakes his head yet again.

"Just keep walking. They can't do anything to me right now. I only report to a few people, and we're going to meet them right now," he mutters, keeping his voice low and eyes straight ahead, "I'm going to say it again—brace yourself. The reaper realm is not as forgiving as the human one." The dark tone to his voice intrigues her, and she tightens her grip.

"What do you mean by that?" They are out of the main room now, walking down a hall to a different wing. Ronald pulls her aside, leaning forward so he can look straight into her eyes.

"We do not feel like humans do, most of the time. There is no room for hesitation or hysterics here. Miss Liz, if you want to get revenge against a demon, then you've got to be prepared to throw away certain parts of yourself. That's how you kill a person." The intensity of his gaze scares her, because she realizes just how human and weak she is, despite all of her years of training, and knows that she may be delivered back home in one of Undertaker's coffins.

"Ronald," she whispers, "I thought that reapers only took souls. I didn't think you truly killed people."

"I don't. But I've watched enough people murdered to know what it takes, Elizabeth," he says, and she watches as a storm brews behind his vibrant eyes, "You've almost got me convinced you can kill a demon. Almost. Now, come on. We need to go talk to my boss. Everything that happens in the future depends on his thoughts."

Ronald leads her to a large office at the end of the hall with nondescript black doors bearing large brass knockers. Before entering, he turns to her and locks eyes.

"My boss is the kind of man who commands your respect. Please try to keep everything in check around him," he asks, his tone nervous, and Lizzie feels uncomfortable seeing him so uneasy. She also wonders what kind of a boss he must have to undergo such a drastic personality change every time he gets near the door. He lifts the handle and lets it swing down to clank against the wood, the thud echoing all around the marble whiteness.

"Come in," a voice says, crisp and cool like the first cold snap of a London winter, and equally as harsh. Lizzie sees him look out of the corner of his eyes at her and gulp before he pushes the door open and escorts her in. The room is not all white, as the rest of the building seemed to be, but still fairly minimal. Dark rug, grey sofa, black desk. Then she sees the man—no, the two men sitting at the desk, and suddenly feels nervous as she takes in their appearances.

She assumes he official, stern-looking man in the odd glasses and finely pressed suit was Ronald's boss. He appears to be signing several documents with an elegant silver fountain pen held in his long, slender fingers. She doesn't see a hair out of place, his skin is perfectly clear and even paler than Ronald's, and he gives off an overall air of propriety. She easily imagines him as part of the British Knights, equally graceful and terrifying in swordplay.

"His name is William T. Spears, call him Mr. Spears," Ronald hisses, "And the other one is Grell, the one I told you about, a complicated being. He refers to himself as a girl…so I call her Ms. Sutcliffe. Better favors done," he explains. Lizzie's eyes switch over from the prim and proper Mr. Spears to the other reaper, the 'Ms. Sutcliff' and her eyes bugs out.

He is terrifying in a very gorgeous sense. Long red hair that would've turned her aunt green with envy cascades to a tiny waist, the same green eyes as Ronald's (except Grell's seem slightly darker, although she can't put her finger on it) sparkle from behind red framed spectacles. Grell wears a long, red coat half pulled on, held up by the positioning of his arms. She notices that he's perched on the side of Mr. Spear's desk, rapidly talking as the professional reaper works. Lizzie catches a flash of his teeth and has to restrain a squeak—they're sharp and horrifying.

"Excuse me, Mr. Spears," Ronald says, stepping forward with Lizzie mostly hiden behind him. Mr. Spears ignores him, but Grell stops mid-word and switches his gaze to Ronald.

"Hello, Ronnie darling," he says in a honeyed baritone voice, which still manages to have a feminine inflection, "It must've been one rough day if you had to come in to see Will dearest. How is the fancy London I once knew? See anyone familiar?" Grell's voice is almost hopeful, and Lizzie remembers Ronald saying that he had a crush on Sebastian several years ago. She feels distaste towards the reaper for having such a poor judge of character. Wouldn't it make the most sense to hate the demon, not lust after them? She wonders. Ronald exhales, his shoulders slumping as he steps aside to reveal Elizabeth to Grell.

"As a matter of fact, I did run into a familiar face, Grell," he says. Grell stares, wide-eyed, at Elizabeth, adjusting his glasses and hopping off of Mr. Spear's desk to step closer.

"…Ronnie, I know you go to great lengths to get a date, but I didn't think it meant breaking the rules of realms," Grell muses, the glinting smile gone from his face. Mr. Spears looks up for the first time at the mention of rulebreaker. He doesn't make a face at Lizzie, but just raises his eyebrows.

"…Ronald, do you have adequate reasons behind bringing a human girl wearing her nightgown in my office?"


	4. The Lady, Acquainting

Ronald opens his mouth to introduce Lizzie, but she dips into a graceful curtsey befitting of her social status, bowing her head to the powerful reaper.

"My name is Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford," she says, using her soft and respectful voice she normally reserves for high society events, "I'm very honored to be here, Mr. Spears." The man's expression doesn't change behind his fancy glasses, but Grell moves closer to her. He slinks like a cat, a tall, elegant red cat, coming toward her with a curious and amused expression on his face.

"I know who you are," he says, the slickness of his voice making her nervous, "Wife of the Queen's Watchdog. The girl with the swords. We met just a few years ago on that ship with Sebastian and the unhappy little puppy himself. How on earth did you convince Ronnie into taking you back here?" A glimmer of an idea shines in Grell's green eyes, and his lips curl upward into a predatory smile, "Don't tell me that such a young, high class lady decided to seduce a worldly reaper…"

"Of course not!" Lizzie snaps, her voice much louder than she'd intended it to be, "I would never betray my fiancé like that. Especially not now." Her voice shakes on the last sentence, but the harshness of her voice surprises Grell into taking a step backwards.

"Hmm. Still quite the feisty one. But how did you find out about our world? Did Ciel Phantomhive entrust his fiancée with the darker side of his life?" he asks. The idea sends a stab of pain in her stomach, but she grits her teeth.

"Miss Liz—" Ronald starts, but Lizzie inhales and states,

"He's dead. Sebastian Michaelis killed him." A new tension overtakes the room; Mr. Spear's attention is focused entirely on her, Grell's face torn between curiosity and repulsion, and Ronald is only nervous. The awkward silence ensues until Mr. Spears breaks it as he speaks while readjusting his glasses.

"Neither of you answered my question," he points out, locking his eyes on Elizabeth without betraying a single emotion. She didn't know that identical eyes—which apparently, all reapers have—could all look so unique. Ronald's are bright but old, Grell's are darkened and sly, and his are carved pieces of Chinese jade. Stony.

"Why did I bring her here?" Ronald repeats, trying not to stammer, "I…I mistook her for one of the dead. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, not like how a frustrated person screams, but how one of the dying does. Her home was right next to a scheduled pickup, and I got in through her window. Obviously, she wasn't dying," he says, recounting their whole excursion to his boss like a child does to a parent after a day of activities, "She asked me how to kill a demon. I'll let Miss Liz explain her desire for that later. I said humans can't, but reapers can. She requested that I bring her here so she could learn how to kill a demon. I thought her reasons were good. So I brought her." He ends his recap on a defiant note, staring at Mr. Spears, quietly daring his boss to call him stupid. Mr. Spears clears his throat, his cool green eyes looking from Ronald, to Grell, and then back to her.

"Grell, may I ask you to escort Miss Elizabeth out momentarily so that I may speak with Mr. Knox?" he asks in an icy tone, turning his gaze onto the redhead. Lizzie wonders if she sees his expression soften as he looks at Grell. He gives him a little wink as he walks over to place his long fingers on Lizzie's shoulder.

"Of course William. Come along, girl," he says, digging his fingers into her arm as he half-drags, half-escorts her from the room. She casts an imploring look at Ronald, who refuses to meet her gaze as he takes a seat in front of William's desk. He won't let them hurt me…he won't, she tells herself as Grell walks her back down the hall to a different office. He throws a different, but still rather grand, door open pushing her inside a similar white office. However, this one is smaller and decorated with red furniture and a glossy red desk.

"The years have certainly been good to you," Grell laughs, appraising her state, "Yes, very good if you've managed to capture Ronald's attention. But…darling, you simply can't walk around that exposed here." He tsks, and her cheeks go red when he peers at her chest through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Suddenly, she feels very exposed to this strange man.

"I didn't exactly have much time to change," she mumbles, crossing her arms, "I apologize, sir." Grell scoffs, tossing his long, crimson hair back over his shoulder.

"Oh, I'm not bothered by it in the slightest. I find all human forms appealing. My problem is that I dislike when I'm not the most beautiful in the room." He bats his long eyelashes at her and struts to the back of his office, to another pair of larger doors. "Now, with a bit of altering, I have a feeling that I could make some of my old academy clothes fit you." Lizzie gapes as he flings the doors open to reveal a closet, stuffed to the brim with clothes of almost every color, the majority on the red end of the spectrum. This man confuses her more and more by the second, and she gasps when he pulls out a particularly beautiful wine colored dress.

"That is yours?" she asks, gawking as she imagines the tall redhead wearing the garment, "Ah…Mister Grell," she starts as Grell perches on top of his desk and begins to examine the hem of the dress, "Are you…a-are you a man or a woman?"

Grell pauses in his examining, and Lizzie suddenly worries that the tall red reaper will throw her out of the room, or possibly attack her. Her accusation is awful, she realizes, something that she'd never in a million years ask anyone else but Grell. The redhead lays the dress across his lap, looking up at Lizzie with hardened green eyes.

"I am both, I suppose. I feel like a woman. I act like a woman. I wear dresses lovelier than most of the women in London do. However, my appearance is male. So people call me a man. But it is of no consequence now, anyways," he says, tossing the dress to her, "Put that on and I will fix the hem. There should be enough room in the chest for you; the bodice is quite stretchy." Lizzie feels her cheeks inflame from her rudeness as she feels the silky material beneath her fingers. Grell turns his back to her so she can change.

"You are very kind…and I am sorry if I offended you. Say, Grell," she starts, disrobing and pulling on the soft dress, "I feel…I feel as if I know you from somewhere other than the ship. Could I have possibly seen you with Sebastian and Ciel before?" She sees Grell stiffen and then reach up to touch his long red locks. He turns his head to the side, glancing down at the ground with a melancholic expression.

"I can't recall. I doubt it, however. Are you done?" he asks, peeking over his shoulder to see her struggling with the ties in the back. "Oh, my dear, allow me." His dexterous fingers quickly lace her up, and he flips her around to examine the fit of the clothing. "Yes, a bit too long, but nothing that you can't manage until we can get you to a proper tailer." A few quick pins later, and Lizzie can easily move in the dress.

"It's beautiful," she laughs, twirling around in the fancy outfit as she feels the old urge to squeal over beautiful clothes, "You have amazing taste in fashion." Grell smiles down at her, sitting back on the desk.

"I have no clue as to why Ronnie brought you into this world. It's a misfortune, to say the least, that you had to watch death so closely, and so young too. That's our job," he winks, his sharp teeth glinting as he smiles at her. "But, tell me, do you really think you can kill Sebastian? Even I couldn't, and I've fought him several times." At the mention of their past encounters, a shiver appears to run through Grell, his muscles tensing and a flash of something crossing his face as he remembers the demon. Lizzie looks down at the white floor, scuffing her bare foot against the tiling.

"I can't know for sure. Really, I can't. But I figure, if there's any place to start figuring out how to kill a demon, it's in the reaper realm. Right?" Her lips twist into a wry smile as she acknowledges just how hopeless she sounds. Grell places a hand back on her shoulder.

"Even if you didn't use to look it, you are far more intelligent than I first thought. Come along, Miss Elizabeth, I have a feeling my Will and darling Ronnie are finished with their conversation. Will likes to keep things short. Well, most things," he giggles, a blush crossing his pale cheeks. Lizzie feels her own face heat up when she understands what Grell insinuates with his words.

"Do you mean to tell me that you—and Mr. Spears?" she gasps, feeling like one of the gossiping girls she used to have afternoon tea with back in England. Grell shakes his long index finger to and fro.

"Now, now, Miss Elizabeth, you must remember that things here are far different from your world." He leads her back to the larger office, knocking only once before entering. William and Grell haven't moved an inch, both their faces perfectly serious and lips set in a straight line as they enter. Ronald's eyes widen when he sees Elizabeth in her fresh dress, and he reaches up to adjust his tie.

"Thank you for providing Miss Elizabeth with appropriate clothing, Grell, that was very hospitable of you," Mr. Spears says, his voice unchanged in its cold monotone state. "Please, Miss Elizabeth, take a seat." She curtseys to him in thanks, sitting down in the chair next to Ronald's. Grell perches on the arm of Will's chair, and Lizzie wonders if the man has an aversion to normal seating.

"Have you determined what you're going to do with me?" she asks, keeping on the subject, as she remembers Grell saying that Mr. Spears prefers short conversation to long. He nods, appearing to appreciate her lack of small talk.

"Yes. Mr. Knox pled your case quite systematically. I have come to this decision," he states, adding, "And I hope you find it agreeable. You may stay in the reaper realm, for the time being. Mr. Ronald made your intentions clear to me. He, and possibly a few other higher-level reapers, will be your teachers in combat and demonology. Now, let me make myself clear, I don't just let humans in here." He gives the name of his species a particularly disgusted intonation, but carries on, "I just have a strong dislike for the demon Sebastian Michaelis. But regardless of that fact, you will not take this privilege lightly. Act appropriately. Treat the reapers here with respect, and, no matter how emotional you may feel as a human, conduct yourself as a reaper would. Do you understand?"

Lizzie hardly hears his words at the end; joy floods through her. She can stay. She can stay in the reaper world and learn how to defeat the horrible Sebastian; her plans of vengeance have real meaning now. Ronald and Grell and maybe even a few other reapers will help her achieve her goal. Compose yourself, Elizabeth, she reminds herself.

"Thank you, Mr. Spears," she utters, hardly audible due to her attempting to restrain her excited emotions, "I will make the best possible use of this opportunity. Yes, thank you, thank you so very much." Lizzie dips her head in a funny sort of bow, and, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ronald smirk at her. Grell claps his hands together, a brash look of excitement spreading across his face.

"Oh, this shall be so very interesting, William!" he exclaims, clasping his hand on the stiff shoulder. To Lizzie's surprise, Mr. Spears permits the display of affection. Ronald is the first to stand up, grinning broadly at Lizzie as he extends his arm to her. "Yes, Mr. Knox, please show Miss Elizabeth where she will be living for the duration of her stay. Also, please fill her in on the rest of the details. I have some issues to discuss with Mister Sutcliff."

"Yes, sir," Ronald says, still grinning at her as he walks her out of the office. He glanced down the hall at the mess of secretaries and businessreapers on the other end before turning back to Lizzie. "Will you wait here a moment? There's just something I need to sort out with our receptionist before I take you to your room." She nods, her smiling never once wavering, for she still can't believe how incredibly lucky she is. Ronald gives her an awkward little pat on the shoulder before rushing down the hall, leaving her outside of Mr. Spears' office. It becomes quiet, and then she hears the strains of voices coming from the large room.

"Will, darling, please don't be angry with me," Grell pleads, and Lizzie freezes in place. Could he be ready to hit Mr. Sutcliff for giving me the dress? Oh, I knew this place seemed too upright! she thinks, ready to angrily bust in and defend the kind red reaper. A low groan of frustration sounds, and then Mr. Spears speaks.

"I am not angry with you, Grell...I am worried. I do not want you working too closely with them in any situation where you could see Michaelis again. You know what he does to you...your mind, your sanity, Grell. Please don't get involved with this." Lizzie blushes, realizing she's intruding on a very private moment between the two. She tries to will herself to not hear, but it fails, for Grell's baritone tones still ring loudly in her ears.

"Yes. I know, William. Believe me, I know. I will stay away from her and Ronald. I won't come in contact with that demon again anytime soon. With luck, they'll kill him before I could possibly get a chance. Also, William, you must not talk about..." and then Grell's voice lowers in tone so much that Lizzie can't hear a thing. What is he saying? Is he talking about me, or Sebastian? What if he knows something about Sebastian? she wonders, concentrating to hear more so hard that she barely notices Ronald sidling up next to her. His expression is unchanged.

"Are you ready, Miss Liz?" he asks. She jumps, ruffled from being interrupted from her eavesdropping. But, like a true lady, she slides a smiling facade back on and takes his arm.

"I have been for awhile, Mr. Knox. Please, show me this realm."


	5. The Lady, Training

Ronald walks her through the strange building, which turns out to be more like Edward's university than her father's office. She watches students studying in a courtyard, older women polishing their scythes, a young boy tripping over his shoes as he races for his next class. Some stare at her, but most don't out in the open. Elizabeth realizes with a wry smile that most of them have seen stranger things in their life. She also blushes when she sees how very different the reaper world is from her own, in terms of dress and relationship. Women stalk by in short breeches and tight shirts, their hair cut short and some of them grinning at Ron.

"Hello, Blondie," a brunette with curly hair laughs as they pass by, winking at Ronald while polishing her gun. Ronald returns the grin, bowing slightly as he walks past with Elizabeth. The blonde feels her cheeks heat up. She feels out of place in her long red dress, and, as she watches a man and woman practice fighting each other, she wonders if she'll soon be wearing such strange outfits. My younger self would say they aren't cute at all, she thinks, tugging at her scarlet skirts, But I think the time for cuteness is long gone.

"You'll be staying in the nicer dorms, the kind upperclassmen get. Actually, I think Will said you could have my old room," Ron says, adjusting his glasses as he looks up at the towering building that stands before them, "Don't worry, Miss Liz, it's only a couple flights up." With a wink, he opens the door for her and bows in a mocking fashion, which makes her frown and stalk past him.

"I told you, don't call me Miss Liz," she sighs, traipsing up the stairs and regretting taking Grell up on his offer to wear the lovely dress, "I'm still a Lady, you know, even if that title has very little standing here in your world." She can hear Ronald laughing behind her and just moves faster to the second, and then third floor. "Is this it?" she asks, hoping that the stairs will end. Pushing his hair back, Ronald nods and strides ahead of her to the third door on their left. "This is it, Lady Liz, my old academy room. It's not much," he admitted, swinging open the door and escorting her inside, "But I hope it's enough."

The room is plain and white, like the rest of the architecture in his world, and Elizabeth feels a strange longing for the lush carpeting of her floor and Turkish blankets that cover her bed. Still, it's clean and on the spacious side, far more than she expected. Also, she fears Ronald will be crushed if she admits to wanting color, so she nods and smiles.

"It's plenty. Thank you for being so kind to me..." she sits down on the small loveseat, disregarding her manners and slumping back against the soft fabric. It's only then she realizes how exhausted she is. Well, Lizzie, you did fly through London, pass to a different world, almost die, etcetera...she reminds herself. "Ah, Ronald, what am I to wear tomorrow for the training? I can't go about in this dress; I'd be a fool to try!" And then it's Ronald's turn to go red as he walks over to the small wardrobe and opens it.

"Will works fast, I sometimes forget," he mumbles, reaching inside and pulling out some black cloth. "These are what the reaper girls usually train in." With a quick toss, the clothes are in her lap for her to examine. They're the same short pants she saw the other girls training in. "I know they'd probably make the Queen faint, but that corset would make you do the same, so...ah...I hope it's not too bad."

As she holds up the pants, a strange smile spreads over her face as she imagines how her family and friends would react to her, the prim, proper, and adorable Lady Elizabeth romping around in men's clothing with a sword, cavorting with grim reapers. It makes her giggle, and she can tell that her laugh makes Ronald wary.

"Don't mind me, I amuse easily," she laughs, wiping a stray tear from her eye, "It's just...so very odd, do you understand? This is all incredibly odd, something out of a fairytale, or a mystery novel. I love it." With a grateful expression, she looks up at Ronald and smiles softly. "Thank you." With a fresh shade of pink coloring his skin, he fists his hands in his hair and looks away.

"Nah, don't mention it. Unfortunately, Will also gave me too much paperwork as a punishment for not getting the rest of my souls...so, I will see you tomorrow, around eleven, down in the third exercise yard. Grell will be here in the morning to get you; he's excited about training a human girl. Says things were getting boring around here, but that's Grell for you. Have a nice night, Miss Liz." With a final grin that sends a shiver running through her, Ronald leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

She rifles through her wardrobe until she finds the pajamas she discarded earlier, and silently thanks William for having the foresight she didn't to keep her clothes from home. Off goes the skirts, corset, dress, fancy underwear, but she is careful to not wrinkle the fabric too badly, for the outfit is a gift. As the soft flannel floats over her skin once more, she walks into the small bedroom that adjoins the sitting area and curls up on the bed. Tomorrow, she will move forward. She will learn, grow, and fight for her future and for Ciel's past.

"Darling," she whispers, looking up at the white ceiling and closing her eyes. His face swims behind her lids, delicately handsome, but also grim, just as she remembers him. "Ciel, I know you wanted to keep me out of this underworld, this twisted universe that sucked you in. I am sorry, I truly am, but I am the offspring of an English knight. I am your knight, my love, and I will fight for you. I know you did for me."

For the first time in over a week, she falls into a peaceful sleep.

-

As to be expected, Grell arrives early the next morning. His hair is pulled up high, and his clothes are more suited for sweat and running than for twirling around Mr. Spears' office.

"Good morning darling," he trills, waltzing into the room with a small basket of food, "Are you ready to be drilled by the most powerful of the reapers? I have little mercy, except for when it comes to breakfast. Have an apple, girl." He tosses her a fruit, and she hardly catches it in her sleepy state.

"Good morning to you as well," she yawns, taking a bite of the sweet, crunchy fruit, "And, the most powerful of the reapers? Wait, are you referring to yourself?" She can practically taste the foot in her mouth when the last words slip out, but all she can see is a tall, slender reaper with feminine features and long red hair. However, when Grell's eyes darken and smile curls, she can understands completely.

"My looks are my biggest weapon," he says, wrapping a strand of hair around his finger, "Quite deceptive. They never see it coming, my power. But if you ever wish to die early, just ask Will about our academy days." She can't tell if Grell is joking or not about Mr. Spears killing her, so she just continues to eat her apple. Quickly, she changes into the training clothes, trying not to squirm once they cling to her figure. If possible, she feels even more exposed than when she donned the nightgown.

"You will get used to it," Grell insists, grabbing onto her hand so she stops tugging at her shirt, "Now come along Elizabeth, we shouldn't keep the rest waiting."

Ronald does not look at her at first. He takes a quick glance at her, in revealing trousers and a fitted shirt, a perfect outfit for leaping about it, and refuses to meet her eyes. Grell, who becomes more excited by the second, calls for one of the younger reapers to bring them some different swords.

"Now young Elizabeth," Grell starts, his voice becoming authoritative as he holds up a new kind of sword Elizabeth is unfamiliar with, "From what I know, your footwork is good, but acrobatics could use some work. This sword is of the reaper world: light enough to run around with, but also sturdy enough to be used as support for when we need to flip or scale things. For our first lesson, I will teach you a fighting technique. It is French, and no my dear, there is no need to wrinkle your nose. The 'frogs' still have something to offer us. For example-"

Elizabeth gawks as Grell begins to sprint, faster than she's ever seen anyone go, jump on top of a mid-height wall, balance precariously, and vault himself at the nearest building. He pushes himself off the brick with the swords, flipping backwards and landing in a feline crouch with the blades crossed.

"...Oh, my," Lizzie gasps as she stares at him. With a smirk, Grell flips his hair back over his shoulder and pops his hip out.

"Catching flies, my dear," he chastises, "Let me tell you, when you fight a demon, you must be acrobatic. Especially with Sebastian. Jumps, flips, running, all of those things are necessary. Now, hold these." He tosses the weapons at her and picks up a different set from the reaper on standby.

"What shall I do first?" she asks. Grell points with his sword at the other end of the vast courtyard.

"Run."

And thus, her new life begins.

-

Grell is a slavedriver.

It's been about a month since their first lesson, and every day she finds herself dripping in sweat, a ghastly mess. Sometimes she contemplates asking Mr. Spears about his academy days, for dying sounds far less painful than having to attempt Grell's tricks again. He insists that she has improved, but she is still clumsy and slow in comparison to the great Red Reaper. Every time, she falls and skins her knee, the blade sometimes slips and slices her palm open, but she forces herself to keep going. Even when she strains her leg and bruises her forehead, even when blood oozes from her arm after scraping it against the hard floor, she keeps training.

For Ciel.

Everything is for Ciel.

She feels her legs and arms developing new muscles, and she has a new respect for Grell. He makes it all seem easy, every flip and twist. It's truly incredible. Sometimes Mr. Spears stops by to observe them and, when Ronald asks why he is there, he snaps that he wants to make sure Elizabeth is behaving. It's a lie. He wants to watch Grell bend and twist in fitted clothes, and she has to stop herself from smirking whenever she sees Mr. Spears' expression shift or flush. Grell isn't exactly subtle either, which just makes it all the more amusing.

Whenever Ronald shows up, she feels on the more flustered side, but forces herself to concentrate. Still, the thought of him seeing her covered in dirt, blood, and sweat still embarrasses her on a small scale. She's hardly Lady Elizabeth anymore. This world is turning her into a soldier, but that doesn't scare her. What scares Lizzie is the fact that she likes this. She only misses the pretty clothes sometimes, but she feels equally at home in these breeches and shirts that stick to her skin when she sweats.

At night, she dreams about Ciel, sometimes Ronald, but mostly Ciel. It's giving her drive, the dreams, more than she's ever had before.

She finally manages to stick that backward flip landing and could cry from joy. It's working. Her plan is working. With every new technique of Grell's that she successfully completes, she takes one step closer to defeating Sebastian.

Ronald helps to. Grell loves training Lizzie, but after three or four hours he wants to whisk Mr. Spears away so that the latter can get achieve some level of relief for his frustration. The way a viewpoint can change, she muses, thinking about how she would've reacted a month ago to their relationship. Then, Ronald picks up the slack. No matter how exhausted she is, she grabs the fencing sword and takes up fighting with him. The blonde reaper forces her to practice ignoring distractions in all forms.

"You know, I didn't think you'd be this successful," he taunts, parry and thrusting as she darts about him like lightning, "Pretty English Rose...with the flimsy nightgown..." she feels something stir within her due to his deep tones, but shifts her attention to his footwork. "You've surprised me."

"I'm all the more glad for it," she quips, practically twirling around behind him as he lunges for her, "I'm afraid I've lost my title of Lady Elizabeth, though, in my filthy, muddy state. I'm hardly an English Rose now, Ronald, that title is gone." She almost gets him in the side, but he dodges her blade at the last minute. His sword shakes as he avoids her gaze, and he sidesteps her thrust.

"Your filthy, muddy state is nothing to dislike at all, my lady," he says, his voice much softer as he whirls around and almost drives the blade into her shoulder. Her heartbeat speeds up, and not because of their exercise, but rather because of the fresh intensity on Ronald's face.

He does not anticipate her right-stepping him and driving the blade into his stomach. It bends, but she knows he'll have a bruise their. Ronald grasps his hand onto the sword and pulls it from her grasp.

"My lady has won," he says, bowing to her. She becomes too aware of the grass stains on her knees and the sweat dried in her curls. "My muddy lady, whose company I enjoy so much. Would you..." he sidles up alongside her, his green eyes glowing from behind his glasses, "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tonight, Lady Elizabeth? I'm sure I could persuade Grell to loan you suitable clothes, for you do look quite beautiful in red."

Her heart swells within her chest and she nods, feeling like a normal seventeen-year-old for the first time in...ever.

"It would be my pleasure to have such a charming, courteous escort, Sir Ronald," she replies, trying to suppress her joyous laughter. Everything is going so perfectly in her life; she can hardly stand it. Ronald grins enough for the two of them and, before he rushes off, he swoops down and kisses her hand.

"Tonight at seven then, Lizzie," he whispers in her ear, the use of her nickname making her shiver before he hurries away.

She could squeal, and she almost does as she runs back to her room, clapping her hands and skipping along the grass. Long curls bounce down her bake, even if they are caked with sweat, and Lizzie laughs up at the clear blue sky. Hello, reaper universe, I am Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford, daughter of the British knights, avenger of my fiance Ciel Phantomhive, and I am strong and I can handle whatever you choose to throw at me.

Her smile doesn't leave until she's in her small apartment, upon which a cold hand claps over her mouth and a nightmare body presses against her. The sensation is too familiar and she cannot scream, she can hardly register the soft puffs of air ghosting against her skin as the figure leans in close.

"Hello, Elizabeth," the familiar silken voice whispers, brushing chilled lips against the shell of her ear, "It's been far too long, my lady."

A strand of jet black hair falls into view, and she faints.


	6. The Lady, Falling

When she comes to, she's on her bed. Well, it isn't her bed, it's Ronald's old bed, and she realizes with a sigh of relief that she hasn't left the reaper world. But then her whole body tenses when she takes a breath. He smells different from the reapers, each of whom have a distinct scent. Grell smells like his floral perfume, Mr. Spears smells of inky paper, and Ronald...Ronald smells of summer in the countryside, and she cannot explain that. Sebastian smells of nothing, not a neutral scent, but truly of nothing. It's an odd, gaping hole in the room, and it attracts all of her attention.

"Well, you awoke rather easily," Sebastian murmurs, slithering over on top of her, his black hair falling in his face. To Lizzie's horror, his hands find hers and he pins her to the bed, a smug smile spreading across his face. There's nothing different about him that she can see, for his face remains a perfect pale oval, and his garnet eyes glow with malice. His hands lack gloves, however, and she wants to recoil from his icy touch, from the long, bony fingers that wrap around her wrists.

"How did you find me here?" she growls, trying to knee him in the groin and finding that his weight rests on her thighs. She can't move at all. Sebastian sighs and presses his face into her exposed neck, inhaling deeply as he ghosts his lips over her skin. A shiver runs down her spine, and Lizzie wants to kick herself for responding to him at all.

"Miss Elizabeth," he whispers, rubbing his fingers against the pulse point in her wrist, "You have a most distinctive scent now. Truly, it's incredible...before I murdered Ciel-"

She spits in his face the minute he speaks the name. Her green eyes are wide with hatred and terror, her neck strains from the effort of holding back a scream. What would the reapers say if they knew Sebastian had broken into their home to get to her? How could she stay if she brought a demon into their safe world? Her saliva trails down Sebastian's cheek, and she grimaces when he sticks his tongue out and laps up the spit. It makes his lips gleam, and he runs his tongue over his teeth before pressing his leg in between hers.

"Before I murdered him...you smelled of nothing, save for the faint rose scent of your bathwater. Quite unremarkable. But that night, when you saw him lying on the ground, killed by me...it was as though someone dumped a vat of perfume on you, of the highest quality. Overwhelming, tantalizing, and practically intoxicating. Your fear, your hatred, it made you quite noticeable when it came to scents. I just followed the trail...the Undertaker is on nobody's side if one can provide a good enough laugh. Dearest Miss Elizabeth, do you want to know what I joked about to make him let me in?"

She doesn't want to know. She really, truly doesn't, because Lizzie is absolutely terrified with Sebastian on top of her, in her room, on her bed, when she's not wearing good, modest clothes. As she notices Sebastian's lecherous gleam in his eyes, she wants to retch, push him off and run away. Lizzie's never been good about staying calm in tense situations when she lacks a sword, but she keeps herself composed by imagining ramming her blade through Sebastian's chest...maybe taking Grell's gleaming chainsaw and pushing it through Sebastian, watching his disgusting, sinful life flash before her eyes. But something tells her that if Sebastian reveals his joke, she may lose her composure.

But Sebastian leans down, his lips trailing against her ear as he presses his chest against hers and spreads her legs further with his knee, "I said that I was going to fail at seducing you," he whispers, moving at the speed of light to grab both her hands with his one so he can use the other to trail a finger over her exposed clavicle, down her sternum, and he traces circles around her breasts until her face goes blood red. "He found that to be the most absurd notion, and don't you agree, Miss Elizabeth?" Her body responds to his touch, and she hates herself for it. His tongue finds her neck and he licks, tasting her sweat-salty skin. Nobody's ever touched her like this before, not even Ciel. He would never do this to her...he would never forgive her if she didn't fight back.

"NO!" she screams, thrusting her knee upwards into Sebastian's stomach. He doesn't collapse, but her sharp movement startles him enough that it allows her to free herself from his grasp. She sprints for the door, but he's faster, and he grabs her by the hair and slams her into the wall.

"I would not do such things if I were you," he states in a cold, flat voice as he presses her to the wall, "Silly Elizabeth...do you think you can escape me?"

"I do," she snarls, trying to keep tears from welling up in her eyes, even though his hands pulling her hair burns her scalp, "You have little power here, Sebastian. This is the world of the reapers, and I've come to know it well over the past few weeks. If I scream...if I so much as raise my voice an octave, then there will be death scythes at your throat from every angle. You remember a Mr. Ronald Knox, don't you? Or a Mr. Spears, Mr. Sutcliff? I know all of them would be dying to stick a blade in your blackened heart. You WILL release me, Sebastian." She tries to make her voice sound like Ciel's, authoritative and commanding, despite her small stature, but it does not work. At all. Sebastian chuckles and runs a finger down her spine, causing her to emit a squeaking noise.

"I remember them, and I know Mr. Sutcliff remembers me. Yes...he was quite infatuated with me, if I remember correctly. He'd kill to put his hands on me. Nothing would please that pervert of a reaper more," he chuckles. Lizzie feels anger boil in her, and the need to defend Grell's honor grows.

"You're a liar. Grell loves Mr. Spears wholeheartedly, there is nothing he wouldn't do for the man. Stop saying such things with that dark tongue of yours, you filthy demon," Lizzie sneers, refusing to turn and look at Sebastian, "And again, all I have to do is scream and you will die. There's no other way to put it. Don't you dare touch me with those hands...those disgusting hands that sullied his body..." a lump grows in her throat, but she swallows it to regain her pride. Lizzie is strong. Lizzie is good, and brave, and she can win this awful battle. She's been preparing for a fight.

However, she lacks a sword, and Sebastian's weapons are his words. He shreds Lizzie's status with one phrase.

"But if I die, Miss Elizabeth...how will you possibly find out who murdered your dear aunt, Madame Red?"

-

Finny slumps over onto the couch, his head in his hands as he stares at the floor, trying to ignore the noise of pain the Marchioness makes as she practices her swordplay. They aren't sounds of physical pain, as he knows the woman is talented enough to evade any and all attacks, but rather it sounds as though her mind is trying to channel pain through her limbs. It's been too long since that horrible week; the Marchioness and Sir Edward stay in the Phantomhive manor as the Marquis, head of the British Knights, continues the investigation. Mr. Abberline comes over quite often as well, with his graying hair and tired eyes as he informs the cold woman that no, they haven't found Elizabeth, they haven't found Sebastian, they haven't found anything.

He wants to cry again. That one night shattered everything good about the world built up around him, placed together piece by piece by the dashing Sebastian Michaelis and indomitable Ciel Phantomhive. He loved them, both of them, even if they could be cold and condescending. As he listens to the Marchioness scream at her opponent, he remembers how he used to scream when it became too much. Though he feels cheeky for thinking it, he wonders if he and the woman are alike in some ways: both of them have difficulty feeling physical pain due to their strength. They find other outlets...she with her swords, him with the garden. Everything was so perfect, he thinks, feeling his shoulders begin to shake once more, With the earl, Sebastian, Miss Elizabeth...so very perfect.

It's still hard for him to comprehend that he's the one who discovered the scene of the three of them. Ciel, pale and limp in death, so vulnerable and unlike himself as he lay spread on the ground, eyepatch gone and both eyes closed. Sebastian, gone. For once, the butler fled from the master. The butler betrayed the master. Miss Elizabeth, screaming on the ground with her hands shaking as she grabbed Ciel. Finny remembers standing at the door in shock, watching the beautiful blonde grip onto Ciel's clothes and scream, sob, beg him to come back. He screamed too, he remembers that as well, he remembers screaming and screaming as the world around him collapsed.

The police still know nothing. Nobody knows anything, nobody comprehends anything...Sebastian, killing Ciel and terrifying Miss Elizabeth into convulsions. Nobody saw it coming. Finny never expected it...he thought Sebastian loved his master. In more ways than one, he thinks with a blush. He presses his hands together and pretends not to notice the Marchioness exiting the room with swollen red eyes and a dripping nose. To his surprise, she sits down next to him and purses her lips. They sit in silence, and Finnian wonders where everyone else in the house is. Bard is cooking dinner, Mei-Rin is running errands, Sir Edward is off helping his father.

"Finnian. That's your name, is it not?" the Marchioness asks in a quiet, stern voice. He freezes, but nods.

"Yes, Marchioness Middleford. Er, may I get you some water, or tea perhaps? It isn't healthy to exercise without drinking water after, if I may be so bold to say," Finny says, stumbling over the formal nature of the language, as though he wobbles on a tightrope that may determine whether or not the woman will cut him with her sword. She sighs and shakes her head, looking far more tired and much older than she does normally.

"No, Finnian, I'm fine. I'm just tired. Yes. Very tired."

They sit in silence for a few moments longer before the Marchioness speaks once more.

"How old are you, Finnian?" she asks, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. Finnian gives her a small, weak smiles and smooths his sun-bleached hair down over his neck tattoo. The raised skin burns the pads of his fingers, and he recoils from himself.

"I'm...I'm not quite sure, Marchioness. I suppose about twenty-two, give or take. Ci-I'm sorry, Earl Phantomhive gave me a birthday. August 3rd. I'm twenty two, I think, Marchioness." Marchioness purses her lips and looks at her hands. They seemed more weathered than when she first arrived at the manor a month ago, and Finny shames himself for thinking that. She is still a stunning, if harsh woman, and anybody would be worse for the wear after losing a daughter and a nephew...

"Twenty two. Hmm. Just a little older than her. You remind me of her, as well, Finnian. Don't take that as an insult," she snaps, as if she's daring him to suggest that being compared to the stunning Lady Elizabeth is anything to be ashamed of, "You are young, you are incredibly strong if the records I have on you are anything to go by. Bottle green eyes and blonde hair as well. My daughter always spoke of you, the whole staff actually, with praise. Ah, ignore me. I'm just a blithering old woman now," she mutters, bitter and quiet as she glares at the polished floor. Finny stares at her, trying to comprehend the situation.

"You aren't old, Marchioness. And you aren't blithering either. It's a-an honor, Ma'am, to be compared to your beautiful, talented daughter. She had your talent with a sword, if I remember. To have her praise brings me nothing but happiness..." he trails off, wondering if he's been too forward. Marchioness stares at him with her harsh brow, biting down on her lip and squinting at him.

"...You have a swordsman's build."

"Pardon?"

She sweeps him off of the couch to a standing position and examines his arms, hands, and back. Finny blushes, unsure of how to react to such a distinguished woman staring at him like one would a piece of meat. Her green eyes flash with determination as she hands him one of her twin swords, leading him back towards her newly converted training room.

"Come with me, Finnian. You are still a servant of Phantomhive. No, wait," she says, rounding on him with her flushed face and fierce expression, "You are a servant of Middleford. And I am determined that everyone in my house be at a capable level so that, if they must, they can save my beautiful daughter. Do you understand?" Finny straightens his back and nods, his mouth set in a straight line as he feels the cold metal of the sword brush against his leg.

"Yes, my lady!"

-

Lizzie feels cold. She is numbed by Sebastian's presence, his words, and his hands feel like ice against her wrist. She shakes her head vigorously, trying to wrench her hand from his grasp. Memories of her beautiful aunt swim before her eyes, of a red coat brighter than fire lilies, or even Grell's hair. Stunning red hair, snow skin, a strong, yet loving voice.

Did the monster really kill her?

"You didn't," she whispers, feeling her knees go weak as she struggles to comprehend the reach this demon has in her life, if he killed her precious Aunt Angelina, "You didn't kill Madame Red. She didn't die like Ciel. She was stabbed. I asked Mother...she was stabbed...you didn't..."

"You're right, for once, my dear Elizabeth," Sebastian coos, brushing his hand over her waist and pulling her close enough to stroke the curve of her hip. He lowers her down over the cushioned sofa, pressing her into the soft fabric as his hands palm her torso. She can't feel him, she can hardly see him, she's too paralyzed by her fear because all she can remember is what he really looks like...

"I did not kill Madame Red. However, I know who did. And it's someone you thought a friend...maybe even a confidant. Someone powerful enough to even get past me, a powerful demon."

No.

"Stop being cruel," she sneers, trying to keep the crying out of her voice as she tries not to remember the funeral, how Ciel came in and covered their kind, intelligent, dead aunt with blood red roses, for white didn't suit her...it never suited her...not even in death. Sebastian leans down once more and trails his lips along her jawline until he's right next to her ear.

"Grell Sutcliff."

The room is spinning.

Her breath is shallow.

Every bruise, every shallow cut, every strained joint garnered over the past few weeks suddenly burns and wrenches her body, the pain overwhelming as she sees the indomitable red reaper in her mind. The flowing crimson hair, alert green eyes, alabaster skin, affectionate words...his love for Mr. Spears...his caring for her...how could Grell be a cold-hearted murderer? If he was...if he was, then Ronald would never let her near him. Because Ronald cared about her too.

...Right?

"You're a filthy liar, Sebastian Michaelis," she snarls, coming to her senses and kicking the demon off her body. He stumbles away, a nasty grin spread across his uncomfortably handsome visage.

"And how is that, my lady?" he laughs, brushing his overgrown hair out of his face. Lizzie balls up her fists, her cheeks growing red as she struggles to speak well.

"Grell...Grell is a good man. A good reaper. One of the best. He would never hurt Aunt Ann; I don't even think he knows her! You only said that to anger me. Make me fear you again; well, it won't work! I swear, it won't work at all..." she whispers, staring at Sebastian as he pulls a folded red coat from his jacket. It's Grell's coat, the one that suits him perfectly, seemingly tailored just for the red reaper.

"Do you no longer trust your own eyes? Think, Elizabeth. I know you remember this coat," he whispers, shaking the fabric out and handing it by the collar to Elizabeth. She takes it gingerly, as though it may set her hand on fire. The fabric does feel familiar, soft and high quality, but then again most of Grell's clothing does. Her fingers rub against something inside the collar, and with shaking hands she flips the cloth to look at what appear to be words embroidered there.

Property of Dr. Angelina Durless

Before she can even blink, Sebastian is behind her with his knee wedged inbetween her legs, his hands gripping her wrists and his breath on her neck once more. She can hear his chuckles, deep within his throat as the tears begin to sting her eyes. Grell killed Aunt Ann. Grell took his death scythe and rammed it through her chest, taking one of the only sources of happiness in her life away too soon. Red suited Madame Red...but not Grell's red. Never Grell's red.

"He was her butler during the jack the ripper case you darling fiance and I investigated," Sebastian whispers, pressing up against her back and sending icy shivers down her spine, "He murdered countless women, and then your aunt. I watched him stab her through the heart...and then he went for Ciel. He wanted the unworthy dead. And you can imagine this, can you not, my darling Elizabeth? I can practically see your little human mind working out the finer details."

Sebastian's voice sounds far away. A buzzing fills Elizabeth's ears.

All she can see is red.

That hateful color red.

The reapers...all the reapers...they lied to her...this was what Grell begged Mr. Spears not to mention to her. Killing her aunt. And Mr. Spears complied, because why on earth should a reaper care about a mere human like her, with weak human emotions? She lets a small giggle escape her throat as she stares up at the stark white ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks now. All a lie! All a lie! Everything from the training to the hospitality to...to Ronald. He lied too. I entertained him, she thinks, a mirthful smile spreading across her face, For that's all humans are to the supernatural beings. Entertainment. He thinks of me no differently than Sebastian does...

Sebastian's hands near her breasts, and his lips enclose around her neck, sucking just light enough to get a rise out of her. Through her rage, she hardly feels his touch, and almost doesn't register his teeth scraping her skin.

"He...he must pay," she whispers, her voice wobbling as her eyes widen, "The reapers. They must pay for their murder and deception. W-why am I human? Why can't I win? What could I kill a reaper with?" she muses aloud, almost forgetting that Sebastian is wrapped around her body. A low, throaty laugh sounds from him, and suddenly he presses something cold and hard into her hand. When Lizzie looks down, the flash of silver startles her. It looks like a small scythe with a silver skull attached to it.

"I brought you a present," he says, enclosing her fingers around the weapon, "Two, actually. This scythe, and information. Only a death scythe can kill another reaper. This is for their trainees, and they make them by the dozen. So many that it's hard to miss one gone. If you fail to avenge your darling Aunt Ann with just this weapon and your skills with blades then, my fair Elizabeth, all you have to do is call my name. Sebastian," he whispers in her ear.

Before she can react, he vanishes without a trace, leaving her wobbling in her apartment with a small death scythe clutched in her hand and a red haze obscuring her version.

Red.

Red.

The color of love, the color of lust, blood, and Grell Sutcliff.

Although, she supposes the last is redundant.

"Aunt Ann," she gasps, pressing the blade of the scythe into her palm as she throws the door to her apartment open, her eyes swimming with tears as she storms from the room, "I may not have been able to protect you. And I couldn't protect Ciel. But I can do this," she tells herself, her feet pounding against the floor as she runs, a human with the weapon of the gods, her hair flying in all directions as she searches for the red drenched murderer.

"I can kill."


	7. The Lady, Slipping

Prior to this day, Lizzie hadn't known vengeance so well.

She dreamed of eviscerating Sebastian, making him cry at her feet, beg for her forgiveness, and she always imagined feeling this smug satisfaction at getting revenge. But no, prior to this day, Lizzie had still been a foolish little girl who dreamed that maybe, someday, she could be big and strong. The type vengeance she imagined against Sebastian wasn't for Ciel, however. It was for her.

But now?

She thinks of her family. Aunt Ann, the stunningly pretty Madame Red, the strong and intelligent woman who guided Lizzie throughout childhood, the arms she could run too when mother was just too unavailable. Oh, that seems too long ago, when Lizzie was young, wore frilly dresses and low-heeled shoes, and pretended she had some semblance of innocence to the ways of the world. Back when the idea of taking a rapier to a god of death would never have crossed her mind.

Now, she holds a mantra of murder in her mind. Kill Grell, kill the bastard, slit his throat, cut off the hair, hold it as a trophy, dig the blade deep, deep, deep into that flat stomach and make his loved ones watch, make his loved ones suffer the way I've suffered. Kill Grell, kill the man who took away one of the last bits of happiness in her life. Kill Grell, for it's the first step on the road to vengeance against Sebastian.

Kill Grell, that nasty, red-colored whore.

Tears pour from her eyes, almost obscuring her vision as she stumbles along the darkening courtyard with her swords in her hands, out to find Grell's office. She remembers him telling her that he would be working late tonight, for once, and Will wouldn't, so that poor, nasty bitch would be all alone, ready to die at her hands. Somewhere in the back of the mind a voice scolds her for being so careless and stupid, and it sounds like Ciel, her beautiful Ciel whom she saw Sebastian murder in cold blood so many weeks ago. Lizzie feels centuries older now, and perhaps she is, for she has no clue of knowing how time passes in the reaper world.

That thought stops her in her tracks, bringing her canter to a halt in the middle of the grassy Shinigami courtyard, now deserted so late in the day. The rest of her family could be dead. Gone. Mother, Father, Edward, poor Edward, her loving brother who felt so torn up about his little sister's trauma. One of her swords clatters to the ground as she brings a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. She left them back in the real world, all alone so she could chase a dream of revenge. They could be dead. No air left in her lungs, Lizzie falls to the ground, dirtying her knees as she grips the grass in an attempt to find something solid in this world.

Those reapers. It's their fault. It's all their fault. It's even Ron's fault. They're all liars, deceivers, and there's truly nobody in this whole, horrible universe she can trust other than herself. And even then, that's doubtful at times. But those reapers, they took her away from her grieving family and brought her to this world. She was stupid, naive, hopeful that she could murder a demon. But even after so much training, he had her on the bed, hands wandering and breath hot against her skin. He could've taken her any instant, and she wouldn't have been able to stop him.

"Stupid," she whispers, "I'm stupid. I'm hopeless. But that just means I have nothing to lose," she reminds herself, grasping the hilt of her sword once more and struggling to her feet. "I'm sorry, Grell. But you started this."

-

Grell Sutcliffe sits at her office desk, legs crossed and glasses pushed up to better her eyesight as she pours over the mounds of paperwork. The things I do to help young lovers, Grell thinks as she signs off on another document Ronald was supposed to, Taking on his paperwork so he can prepare a date with his cute litte human. Ah, well, that boy deserves a smidge of happiness every now and then. She stretches her arms up over her head, feeling her spine pop as she did so, the result of hours of sitting at a desk. Letting herself slump over the desk, she sticks out her lower bottom lip in a pout. But still, I hate paperwork.

"Are you, as humans say, burning the midnight oil?" Grell looks up, surprised to see Will standing in her doorway, gazing at her. She smirks, sitting up in her seat and pressing down on the mess of documents waiting for her approval.

"Oh, William, were you hoping to take this lady out somewhere nice tonight?" she purrs, brushing her long red hair back over her shoulder. He shrugs with an impassive face, walking into the room and sitting in one of the chairs in front of her.

"No. It's a weekday, Grell. I just...er, wanted to check on you," he says, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. Grell smiles broadly, getting up from her seat and promptly walking over to place herself firmly in Will's lap.

"I'm doing just fine, William. However, I could use a little break." She smiles knowingly, but William simply kisses her without any fuss. He doesn't waste time talking, but instead embraces her, tangles his hand in her long, soft hair and places the other around her waist. Grell smiles into the kiss, her own arms draped around William's neck as he deepens their kiss.

"Ah, Will," she sighs when he kisses that one spot right beneath her ear, "If you don't stop, I'll never get this paperwork done." He pulls away, a quizzical expression on his face. She feels him place one hand on her forehead, as though checking for a temperature.

"Well, you don't feel like you're running a fever. However, the Grell I know would never pass up sex for paperwork." Grell kisses him lightly on the forehead before sliding off his lap, returning to her desk.

"You know that, for a very long time, I've struggled with human concepts," she says, looking down at her desk with pursed lips, "Tenderness, remorse, caring...but I think I'm finally beginning to understand, a little bit." She can feel William's eyes upon her, looking at his high-functioning sociopathic girlfriend, "Right now, I am practicing atonement."

William looks at her, his lips in a flat line, and Grell knows what he's remembering. Dragging her back to the Reaper world in bloodstained clothes, shouting at her for meddling in human affairs while Grell just grinned maniacally, remembering how thrilling it was to fight a demon as powerful as Sebastian, muttering about how Angelina disappointed her, how her little brat of a nephew ruined everything. With a clearer mind now, she remembers the pained expression William wore, betraying his normal cool facade.

"That little girl is a dangerous human, if she can make you feel like this," William comments, allowing the smallest of smiles to grace his lips. Grell wipes at her eyes, looking up at William.

"I know."

William leans over to kiss her on the cheek before leaving her alone with the paperwork. She watches him go, shuffling the papers on her desk as she thinks about how much she's tried to change, frowning at the futility. It hurts to remember Angelina, beautiful Angelina, with her brilliant red hair, fair skin, and soft curves that Grell grew to adore so much. Grell can see a little of her fire in Elizabeth, which causes those pangs in her chest, but she stifles them to help her. Still, every now and then she catches herself hearing Angelina instead of Elizabeth when the blonde speaks, and sometimes she hates Ronald for having the sanity to keep their relationship intact, instead of slicing it to pieces with a chainsaw.

"Regret," she murmurs, "It feels strange."

Sometimes, Grell hates herself.

-

It's late enough that there's nobody to see her storm down the hallway, double swords in hands, hair flying out behind her. Gone are the pigtails, gone is her smile, the light in her eyes, gone is everything good and sweet that made her Lizzie, Ciel's fiancee and belle of the ball. Now she is Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford and she is going to kill a death god.

Those low heeled shoes she despises so much clack on the ground, and her throat closes as she tries to stop herself from crying. Why does the world take everything from me? She thinks, remembering Aunt Ann, so calm and unlike her normal bubbly self in death, and her handsome Ciel, twisted in agony as that bastard Sebastian killed him.

She imagines Grell ramming through her aunt with his chainsaw, a maniacal glint in his eyes as he guts her relative, spilling red blood over the filthy London ground.

Die, die, die.

Lizzie can't think of how Ronald will react to finding her crouched over Grell's body in the morning, blood spattered on her white cheeks and cuts all over her body from the battle that will ensue. He'll hate her. He'll despise her, the bloodthirsty human who he no longer finds interesting now that she's gone totally mad. However, she won't let him kill her. She's not done yet.

The doors clang open, and she sees Grell sitting with his legs propped up on his desk, pouring over paperwork. He looks up, adjusts his glasses, and stares at her in shock. The redhead takes in her furious expression, white knuckles from gripping the swords, and dirtied knees, piecing everything together. His perfectly made up mouth falls open, and he stands up, gaping.

"Oh...Angelina," he whispers.

Lizzie flies at him with the scream of a banshee, sticking one sword mere inches away from his face. The noise of it driving deep within the drywall makes Grell cringe as he jumps away, quick and nimble as a cat. She's panting, her cheeks still white from shock, and her green eyes glow with her madness.

"Don't say her name," she hisses, taking an expert swipe at Grell and nearly slicing his arm, "You aren't...you aren't worthy of talking about her. My beautiful aunt. You sick, twisted bastard. I...I hate you." Were it anyone else, those words would sound childish, meaningless. She knows that Grell knows better, though. Words like that are reserved for Sebastian, killer of her fiancee...and now him, killer of her aunt. She can see the pained expression on his face and it angers her, because he isn't allowed to feel like that. Remorseful. She needs him to be insane and sociopathic so she can kill him.

"I suppose you want to kill me," Grell says, keeping his voice steady as he stares at Elizabeth from across the room. She can see his chainsaw propped up in the corner, and the fierceness of the weapon briefly scares her. I will face this like an Englishwoman, she tells herself, brandishing the words and making her expression steely, With a stiff upper lip.

"Destroy is more accurate," she snarls in a tone so cold icicles practically fall to the floor. Grell looks at the floor, wearing a wistful expression on his pale face, his yellow-green eyes saddened. Lizzie feels the rage bubble up inside, and suddenly she snaps. To hell with stiff upper lip, she thinks as a feral scream escapes her lungs.

"Stop! Stop it, you damned reaper! You are...you are not allowed to look like that! So sad...so human," she sobs, her throat sore from shrieking, "She was my aunt! My aunt, the one who loved me, and she took care of me. You...you took her away from me for fun! It was all a game, wasn't it? And it's still a game. Well, that ends here." Not making a sound, she leaps towards Grell, her sword pointing right at his throat. Grell stares at the tip of the blade with an impassive face, an eye twitching.

"You don't want this," he whispers, "There's no going back."

"Don't tell me what I want," she growls. And, with a flick of her wrist, she slices the blade across Grell's cheek, leaving a clean slash behind. Crimson blood trickles down the palest skin, and Grell's eyes flutter, as if something stirs within him. Very slowly, with Lizzie's eyes trained on him, he pulls his glove off and wipes a finger along his cheek. He holds his hand up to the light, examining the sheer red liquid.

"I haven't seen my blood in a long time, Elizabeth," he says. Her eyes widen as she watches a catlike smile curl the edges of Grell's lips upward, pointing toward his shrinking pupils as he grins at her. "Not since that delicious boat ride when I got to play with Sebastian. Oh, such a delight. So much blood..."

Grell sounds different now. He doesn't sound like a playful mentor, but terrifying. She can hear the danger warning in his syrupy voice, and see it in the flamboyant pop of his hip as he giggles. It's unnerving to hear a death god giggle. Then, before Lizzie can even blink, Grell's two yards away from her, reaching for the chainsaw. "I used to love seeing blood, Lizzie, darling. Mine, other's, whomever's...it's just so delightful." She feels the fear rising, reaching the height when Grell whips the chainsaw towards her.

"And it's been such a long time since I had a death match!" he squeals, all excitement and bouncing as he brandishes the weapon. This is not the Grell she's come to know anymore. It's an entirely different person. This is who killed Aunt Ann, she realizes, seeing the bloodlust in this Grell's mannerisms, This Grell. And this is who I have to kill. She pushes down her terror and curls her lip as she feels the coolness of the death scythe Sebastian gave her press into her side, hidden from Grell. Pursing her lips, she holds up her swords and raises her chin high.

"I apologize for your forthcoming death," she intones, channeling her strong mother who she's never wished for more than now. Grell smiles, laughs a little, and starts his chainsaw.

"Likewise, darling."


	8. The Lady, Slashing

Grell dives for her, the chainsaw buzzing, and she just narrowly ducks out of the way. The crunching noise of splintering wood sounds, for he's smashed the desk with the weapon. Shards of wood fly around the room, scratching her face as she brandishes her swords. Grell whirls around, his coat swinging from the momentum, hair hanging in face as he pouts.

"Oops. Looks like that's more paperwork," he giggles, jumping up as Lizzie thrusts her sword at his stomach. She snarls, taking another slash, which Grell easily dodges, rolling to the side with his chainsaw and regaining his balance. "It's no matter, though. That's the price of fun." He speaks with a girlish, almost seductive lilt, and Lizzie cringes as she realizes that he fights with her as he did with Sebastian.

"I'll kill you," she snaps, wishing she could speak the witticisms of reapers during battle, but for now she's too focused on a murder. Grell rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation.

"Really, darling? Oh, my first death match in ages, and it's with a baby girl who doesn't know what it takes to draw beautiful, crimson blood. This is why I prefer battling with men. Ooh, men like Sebby just get me all riled up." With a wink and a smile, Grell licks at the trickle of blood nearing the corner of his mouth before taking another swing at Lizzie. She pushes one of the chairs into the weapon's path, but the sound of ripping fabric isn't nearly satisfying enough for Grell. Closer, get closer, she thinks as they circle each other, Grell smirking and her own lips set in a flat line. The tiny death scythe, her only chance at winning, will only work if she can shove it right into Grell's skinny chest.

Grell takes her silent though as defeatism and snickers, revving her chainsaw, "What would your fiance say if he could see you now? His little lady acting like such a brute, with her swords and rough language..." The memory of Ciel causes a lump to rise in her throat, but it's blocked out by her rage that Grell would even dare to mention his name. Before the red reaper can even blink, her sword whips through the air, slicing a twin cut on Grell's other cheek.

"Unlike your man," she says, the stoic iciness of her mother sounding in her voice, "Mine loves me in all forms." Those words apparently strike a nerve within Grell, as he clenches his teeth and raises his chainsaw above his head.

"Idiot girl. You're just another ugly, pathetic little human," he growls, "As your aunt was."

As Lizzie prepares to duck behind a chair, the door to the office bursts open, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ronald and Mr. Spears standing there, Ronald's eyes wide with shock and Mr. Spear's fists clenching.

"GRELL!" Ronald shouts, distracting the redhead just long enough for Lizzie to yank the scythe from her bodice and jam it into Grell's chest. The world stands still as the blade makes the most horrifying noise as she pushes it further into Grell, the blood beginning to gush over her hands. The chainsaw's noise dies as Grell drops it behind him, gaping at her.

"I am not," she whispers, yanking the reddened scythe out of Grell's chest, "Pathetic."

Grell stares at her, his pupil mere pinpricks and face sheet-white as he falls to his knees in front of her, blood coloring his white work shirt a brilliant red, seeping over the formerly clean marble floor. She can feel the droplets of blood on her face, but refuses to touch them as she steps backward from the red reaper.

Before she realizes what's just happened, she feels her head slam against the wall and broad hands clasp tightly around her throat. She gasps, squeaking and choking as she struggles to pull her new binds away. For the first time, she sees Mr. Spear's face up close, his formerly calm green eyes terrifyingly mad as his fingers dig into her throat. Then, just as soon as it happened, he releases her and she crumples to the floor.

"Spears, stop it!" Ronald shouts, yanking him backwards by the shirt to pay attention to the bleeding reaper, "Don't touch Liz, look at Grell! Spears, look at the blood! The blood, Spears!" The normally stoic reaper crouches next to his lover, panic showing on his face as he begins to strip the clothes away to get a better look at the blood. Lizzie's legs shake as she sees the wound she's inflicted, how deep and ugly it looks. What have I done? she thinks, coming down from her manic rage enough to realize the magnitude of her crime.

"She found out," Grell coughs, hands shaking as he pulls at Mr. Spear's sleeve, "She found out...Will, someone gave her a scythe. When she came in...when she came, everything just went...red. As if he was back once more. Sebastian," he gasps for air, clutching at his seizing chest, "She...Sebastian." Mr. Spear's lips appear white from shock as he walks towards her, eyes colder than she's ever seen them as he inhales. He can smell Sebastian on me, she thinks. The widening eyes tell her that her suspicions are right.

"You...you went to see him," he says in a low, furious voice as he looms over Lizzie, "You did all of this."

Before Mr. Spear's can say another word, Ronald knocks him to the ground, grabs Lizzie's hand, and takes off running while dragging her behind. The reaper shouts after them, but Ronald runs even faster, Lizzie almost struggling to keep up with him. His hand feels damp and cold, but she clings to it for dear life as her heels make loud clacking noises on the hard floor.

"Where are we going?" she shouts, wondering why he refuses to look at her.

"Nowhere," he yells back, and then she knows to stay silent. Mr. Spears might be running after them, or he might not, but she doesn't want to find out.

-

They're in front of a door.

It's a familiar door that she hasn't seen in months. It's identical to the one in Undertaker's room that she used to pass between the two worlds. White light seeps out from under the door, bright and heavenly in the dusk of the reaper world. Ronald's face betrays his emotion; the pain is evident in how his brows furrow together and how he bites down on his lower lip. Still, he holds Lizzie's hand as though he'd die if he had to stop.

"Why," he whispers, "Why'd you go and stab Grell, Miss Elizabeth?" The coldness in his voice almost hurts as much as the lack of a nickname. She is no longer 'Miss Liz.' Ronald's voice shakes as he continues, "Why...why do you reek of that monster? Why did you have a scythe?" The hurt in his voice cuts deeper than any otherworldly weapon. Yet, he still holds onto her hand.

"...I," she whispers, "I found out the truth about my aunt. He gave me the weapon."

"You listened to him," he says, refusing to meet her gaze, "You let a demon cloud your vision."

"Grell killed my aunt!" she screams, her anger rising once more.

"And Sebastian killed your fiance!" Ronald shouts back, his green eyes gleaming with fury, "So I don't know why you would even think about listening to him. Grell's...Grell's dying right now. You know what death scythes do, but that's it. You don't know why Grell did what he did. It was the smell."

"What?" she asks, confused. Ronald shakes his head.

"There's something about Sebastian's scent that drives Grell absolutely insane. He was trying...he was trying to atone, Elizabeth. He wanted to tell you. He really, really did. But now neither of you will get a second chance." Fear rises within her when he speaks those words, for he lets go of her hand and reaches for the door to her world. The realization of what's happening finally hits her.

"Ron," she whispers, shaking her head, "Please don't."

"You hurt family, Elizabeth," he says, refusing to look at her once again, "If you stay here, William's going to kill you. This is a mercy. Besides, it's not like you haven't recently been through this door," he said, all bitterness and anger.

"But Sebastian-" she starts, trying to explain that he was in the reaper world, and that she'd never left to go see him. Ronald glared at her before squeezing his eyes shut and yanking the door open. "Ron, PLEASE!" she screams as he whispers something and sends her toppling through the door.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth."

The last thing she sees before the white light engulfs her is the back of his head as he walks away, refusing to see her fall out of his world.

-

She tumbles out the other side, hitting her head on the hard floor as she curls up, sniffling into her arm. Ronald...why? A sick feeling grows in her stomach, nauseating her as her mind drifts to Sebastian.

Sebastian.

Lizzie sits up and feels tears of pure horror forming in her eyes as she realizes that now she lacks any protection. She cannot return home, no, her mother would ask too many questions if that happened. She cannot return to Ronald's world. She's...homeless, essentially. Easy prey for a demon. The memory of his lips upon her neck and his hand wrapped around her small, pale wrist sends the sensation of ice trickling down her back.

"No," she mutters, getting up onto her hands and knees, her elbows wobbling as she remembers how he groped her through her clothes, asserting power over her. He doesn't have any, she tells herself, trying to remember what her mother told her. People only have as much power over you as you let them.

But, Sebastian is no person.

He's a vicious, seductive murderer out for her body and soul.

At the thought of that, she whimpers and vomits, the contents of her stomach spilling out over the grimy floor as she heaves. It burns her throat, and tears slide down her cheeks as her hands struggle to keep a grip. Her whole body feels twisted inside out, and she hates it. Everything's gone wrong, she thinks, forcing her stomach to calm once more so she can begin to think of a plan. The tapping of shoes echoes in her ears, and, with a trembling chin, she looks up to see the Undertaker standing before her, an easy smile on his face as he looks down at the sick-splattered little girl.

"Well, haven't we made quite the regal mess of ourselves?" he chuckles, leaning over to extend his bony, whitened hand. She gingerly accepts it, and he pulls her to her feet. With a wince, Lizzie realizes how much she reeks of blood and vomit, shrinking away from the Undertaker. Then, she remembers he was the one to let Sebastian into the world. His fault.

She slaps his hand away and starts groping around for her swords...her swords. They're still in the reaper realm, splattered with browning blood in that massacred office. Right now, she lacks a weapon, save for her fists. Tightly closing her hands, she sends a punch flying at the Undertaker, juts as her father taught her. He catches her tiny hand in his, enclosing the freezing fingers around her grimy fist.

"Aren't you tired of fighting, Elizabeth?" he asks, without any trace of a smile. She catches a glimpse of what lies beneath those heavy white bangs, swearing she can see a gleam of reaper green. Even if he did let the monster through...Lizzie has a feeling that right now she has no other choice but to trust this strange, death-scented man.

So, she nods, allowing him to walk her out of the room separating the two worlds.

The Undertaker does not speak much when he isn't joking, she finds, but he does grant her a semblance of hospitality. She washes up in a creepy, ice-cold bathroom, replacing the smell of vomit and blood with a much blander scent of soap. He leaves a plain black dress outside of the washroom, and, while it smells like mothballs, she pulls it on nevertheless. With her skin the palest it's even been and her green eyes standing out more than ever, she looks as though she's never belonged to the human world to begin with.

She exits into the main room, thinking about how Ciel once walked her steps while visiting this odd man on one of his missions for the queen. A loyal watchdog, one she'd hoped to marry. Lizzie wipes at her eyes, telling herself to stay strong for the time being. In a no-man's land, she had to keep her guard up.

"You look almost as pleasant as one of my corpses," the Undertaker says wryly, offering her a biscuit, which she declines as she takes a seat at his long table. He's quite brusque with her, and she finds it...almost refreshing, to not be doted upon, "My lady, may I ask why you've taken so long to tumble back into this room?" She purses her lips, glaring at him.

"You let a demon into the world of reapers. Why?" she demands, feeling the slightest hint of irritation as the deathly man smiles so pleasantly.

"I hold no loyalty to any party. Michaelis made me laugh, so I let him through. That was the condition of my banishment. Only let one through if they are able to make me laugh. To do so shows the human-and reaper-quality of humor. Little did the writers of my contract know that such demons as Michaelis exist...and they know how humans work very, very well."

Lizzie fidgets in her seat as she takes in the words, trying to figure out what to say next. She looks up, her eyes hardened, not betraying an ounce of the fear she feels in this strange, dark place.

"If I...if I can make you laugh. If I can tell you my most ridiculous plan, and it amuses you, will you help me?" she asks in an almost inaudible way. The Undertaker clasps his hands, resting his pointed chin atop them. His white hair falls over his face as Lizzie rises to walk towards him. When she leans in, she whispers a single phrase.

The laughter starts softly at first, then it grows in volume until it reaches guffaw portions, and the man begins slamming his hand onto the table while raucously laughing. Tears of mirth drip off his nose as he gasps, wheezing for air.

"My...my, young Elizabeth. You most definitely have a talent for comedy," he chuckles, calming himself as he uses his sleeve to wipe his unseen eyes. She remains stony faced.

"So, will you help me, Mr. Undertaker?"

He extends his claw-like hand and grins in a sinister fashion.

"Yes, I believe I shall, Miss Elizabeth."


	9. The Lady, Plotting

Ronald Knox stares at the door after it closes, his whole body cold and unmoving as her words echo in his ears. Her green eyes, so full of humanity and anguish, flashing with horror as he pushed her into the realm between the worlds.

Ron, please, she'd cried, begging for him to stop and listen to her. She called him Ron, not Mr. Knox. He couldn't listen, though. Liz...how could she? He knows he should be sprinting back to Grell, to face William's wrath at keeping him from reaping such a murderous human and to check to make sure his self-proclaimed, 'Big sis' was still alive. Never in a thousand lives had he expected to find a girl...no, the girl, standing over his upperclassman with a trainee scythe shoved deep within the chest. So close to where their hearts once resided.

Still, he doesn't go back to the office. He begins to walk towards her room, now his again, but he'll never be able to think of it from now on as anything else but her room. With heavy feet, he trods across the courtyard, feeling his chest constrict as he remembers all the places where they practiced.

She has the potential, he remembers Grell sing-songing one day after practice, as his flamboyant friend pranced about in his office, In more ways than one. At the time, he'd told Grell to piss off, but his 'sister' was right. He'd thought Liz to be beyond an ordinary human. Potential. Yeah, that was the word, of course...but even a reaper could be wrong, sometimes.

His footsteps echo in the narrow stairway, and he feels the eyes of first years upon him, wondering what such a cool, high-ranking reaper was doing back in the dorms. Ron wonders if she missed her stunning home, having to live in such a place as this for so many months. He wonders if she missed her family...he cannot even remember his; the years flew by so quickly.

When he opens the door, he expects to catch a whiff of her perfume, or see the remnants of her breakfast with Grell lying on the little table. Instead, he's greeted with the overwhelming stench of death. Corpses, rotten corpses, like the kind left out in the sun...mixing with the scent of decaying lilies, a horrid smell that makes him retch.

"Fuck, I...fuck," he gasps, covering his nose and trying to see what made that horrible smell. It seems to come the strongest from her bedroom, so he staggers towards the door, opening it and trying not to puke at the even stronger scent. There is nothing odd in her bedroom upon his first glance.

Then, on his second take, he sees a piece of parchment tied with a cream colored ribbon perched atop a rumpled bed. A fresh sickness overtakes Ron; he picks up the paper and unrolls it.

Her soul shall be delicious.

He recognizes the looping script and catches a whiff of something sweet. The ribbon. It smells like her hair. The wave of realization crashes into him, sending him staggering onto the bed as he understands what he's done.

She didn't go visit Michaelis.

Michaelis broke into the realm.

He shoves the note into his pocket as he breaks into a race, sprinting from the room, down the stairs, trying to reach the office as soon as possible. None of them are safe. None of them at all. A reaper made it into the realm once, and caused her to go hurt Grell. Were it not for his smell, nothing would have happened.

He skids into the office to see a nurse tending to Grell, covering up the nasty gash with a healing solution and plenty of bandages. William paces back and forth, chewing on his lower lip with his brow furrowed. Grell winces every so often, whimpering about how it hurts as he struggles to stay awake. When William sees him, Ronald ducks out of the way to avoid his fist.

"Calm the hell down!" he shouts, pushing his senior away, "I can explain this...well, I can explain most of it. With trembling fingers, he pulls the putrid smelling note from his pocket, uncrinkling it to show William. The stoic reaper recoils from the smell, but still manages a look at the phrase. His eyes widen in shock, and his mouth hangs open.

"You don't mean to tell me he broke in, somehow, do you? He got past Undertaker?" he asks, staring at the fancy script spelling out Liz's doom. Ronald nodded, putting the note back inside his pocket. The realization broken out over William's face causes discomfort for him, as he's so unused to seeing the calmest reaper so dismayed.

"He manipulated her. He knew that she would go to confront Grell...and he also knew that Grell would go insane. He planned for this. He wants...he wants to take her soul. Or something else," he says, stomach twisting as he remembers the rumpled state of the bed. Imagining her, lying trapped on the bed as the reaper took advantage of her humanity...it made him want to kill things.

"Ronnie?" he hears Grell gasps, and darts to his senior's side, crouching next to the weakened reaper. Grell's still caked in blood, but the color's slowly returning to his cheeks. He looks much older than normal, as though the wound added a thousand years to his age. "Ronnie...do you know where he is right now?" William sits next to Grell, subtly taking his pale hand in his own. Ronald shakes his head, feeling stupider than ever for kicking her out of their world.

Wait.

She's back in her own world. Which means...

"He's in the human realm. He's got to be. Grell, he's going after Elizabeth right now. He's going to kill her, oh, hell, and it's all my fault." He feels nauseous at the idea that he'd carelessly thrown Elizabeth to her doom without knowing the full story. Grell's eyes appear more serious than he's ever remembered seeing them before as he sits up, a hand pressed against the deep wound.

"They don't call me the strongest reaper for no reason," he laughs, wincing as he stands up. William looks at him, completely amazed as Grell ties the bandage around his wound. He gives the nurse a look, and she hesitates before handing him a small vial. Grell takes a sip, shudders, and his cheeks turn pinker.

"There. That...that ought to fix me for a few hours. Definitely enough time for us to get her back to safety."

"What did you just take?" William asks, hovering over Grell, who nudges him away with a shake of the head.

"It's safe, if a little taxing to the system. It will heal the injury for a few hours so I can finish my work. You never used this when you first learned to reap?" he asks, querelous as the color returns to his cheeks, "Before I got my perfect marks, I did have a few...accidents."

"You had a C in ethics and if you think you're going on a mission in this state, Grell Sutcliff-" William starts, but Grell places a blood coated finger to his lips with a stern expression. Then, to Ronald's relief, a seductive smirk signals the return of normal Grell.

"Now, boys, where's my coat? I do believe we have a maiden to save."

-

"You're an interesting one," Undertaker muses as she pours over yet another book. Back home, she'd never been one for reading nonfiction, and certainly nothing of the occult, choosing instead interesting stories about fantastic places and dashing men. Now, she tries to work her way through a strange man's library, all to discern the best way to kill a demon. She imagines that they were almost to this part back in the reaper realm, as Grell commented more than once that she was practically a reaper already. However, that may have just been a kind comment from a seemingly benevolent teacher.

"Am I?" she responds in the dullest voice she can muster, "I suppose the talent of hiding a small army's worth of swords in my petticoats makes for a good party trick." He doesn't laugh, and she supposes that she's only funny when she's trying to be serious. Such is the plight of women, she thinks, flipping yet another page. The illustrations to the books are gruesome and dark, full of corpses, rotting flesh, and twisting limbs, but after the first fifty or so they stopped having another effect.

"Ever killed someone?" he asks, completely changing the subject. However, it's about the sixth or so time he's done that in the past couple of hours, so Lizzie's also used to it by now. With a sigh, she shakes her head. Contemplated murder, of course, plotting against demons, definitely, but she'd never been able to think about killing another human before. Humanity seems even more delicate now than it did a...she's lost count of the months now. Time's become more meaningless by the day.

"How about you?" she responds, arching an eyebrow. The Undertaker takes pause mid-page turn, lets the parchment flutter back down, and smiles to himself.

"That's a story for another day, littlest lady."

Elizabeth catches another glimpse of the green, and cannot help thinking of Ronald, Grell, and Mr. Spears once more. Did Undertaker work with them? Were they ever close friends, once upon a time? Ronald seemed so defensive and gruff when she remembered them speaking; it seemed as though he borderline detested the man. When she finally begins to read again, she sighs and closes the book. Something tells her that Sebastian is not an African demon.

"Is there an easier way to tell?" she asks, "What kind of demon he is, I mean? It's a little frustrating, pouring over these books for so long and getting nowhere." The Undertaker didn't seem perturbed at all by her complaints, but instead merely shrugged and went back to playing with the tips of his snow colored hair.

"Do you know the story of how young Mr. Phantomhive came to meet Michaelis?" he queries. She takes pause, pursing her lips as she thinks back to the death...the horrible, gruesome death of Ciel. Eyes blown open, if only for a moment as Sebastian's silhouette gutted his soul. It'd been her first time seeing his other eye...in years...but...but she hadn't quite thought to remember it so closely. But, now, with her clearer head and less tear-blurred eyes, she can see the eye clearly now.

"Well...several years ago, kidnappers took Ciel," she whispered, feeling her body go cold despite her stoic voice, "He was gone for a month, and I thought he was dead. But then he came back, with an eyepatch." She grabs a pen and roughly sketches the marking on Ciel's eye as best as she can, which causes Undertaker to make a noise of contemplation. His body stiffens. With a pale finger, he traces the mark, lips pressed into a thin line. It's almost as if the man recognizes the mark; his black fingernails grip the table beneath. With a sinking feeling, Lizzie realizes that she should've shown him the mark, first thing. My mind...my mind, it always fails me when I need it, she thinks, her inner voice full of mirth as she keeps her eyes trained on Undertaker. When he speaks, he does not look at her.

"Littlest lady, are you sure you will use the information I can give you wisely?"

"I'm going to kill a demon," she repeats, "Whether that's wise or not is subjective. What is he, Undertaker? Please, I beg of you, tell me who Sebastian really is."

There's the green glint of his eyes once more, as he turns to face her. There is no more goofy Undertaker. There is only this man, this morally grey man who, for some odd reason, is helping her.

"If I speak his name around you, he will appear before me. Now, we can't have that, can we? But, I can tell you how to lock him in hell...for there is no way to kill that demon. Littlest lady," he stops himself, and she finds a near-fatherly hand resting on her shoulder, "I feel like I should warn, it will not end prettily for you."

Lizzie rises from the table, a pen in her hand and loose blonde waves hanging down her back. The mark of Ciel's eye stares back up at her, the curves of the lines taunting her. With a curled-back lip, she stabs the writing instrument into the wood, and it splits in two. Black ink, darker than night, spills over her hand. Oh, that'll stain, she frowns. Her fingers look like they're rotting, and the crisp smell of ink fills the air. A cooling on her cheek tells her that it's also flown into her face. So be it.

"Mr. Undertaker," she speaks calmly, wiping her black hand against her black dress, "It'll be a long time before I start caring about 'prettiness' once more."

The Undertaker's lips spread into the biggest smirk she's ever had the misfortune of seeing.

"Then, let's proceed, shall we?"

She waits until midnight, and midnight exactly, standing on the roof of the Undertaker's shop in her midnight dress with long, pale blonde hair tied in the pigtails she knows Sebastian will want to pull. A lump rises in her throat as she thinks about Undertaker's words, but a coldness presses into her stomach, reminding her of what she must do.

Ciel, she thinks, looking up at the waning moon, shining a crescent of white light down on the world below, Are you watching, Ciel? Can you see me? You never were one for being a guardian angel, she thinks, remembering how he'd run off for months at a time, leaving her behind, But do you still check in? Hah, you probably think I've gone mad, or that I'm acting even stupider than normal. You've probably forgotten about me. Silly fiancee. Silly girl. Even so, Ciel...her hand finds its way to her cheek, wiping away stray tears, I hope you know that I'll always love you.

Lizzie takes a deep breath, the cold London air strangling her lungs and ripping at her throat as she musters up the courage to shout:

"SEBASTIAN!"

The word draws out into a scream, carried away by the night air, tumbling through the city and maybe further, to wherever the demon may be.

Before she can even take another breath, she feels his presence behind her. It sends chills crawling up her spine, to have him so close. Yesterday, he was on top of her in her bedroom, that seductive voice practically licking her with words she never wanted repeated.

"Hello, my lady," he says, tone so smooth it's practically honey to listen to. Play your part, Lizzie...she reminds herself, turning to face Sebastian with a light blush spread across her cheeks. That isn't acting, though. It's his power to do this, and she must remember that. He wants her. She doesn't want him. But, on the roof in the dead of night, there's nobody to see her be a wanton actress.

"I see you've left that miserable realm," he murmurs, taking a step even closer. His red eyes glint with what she thinks is lust, and he licks his lips in a most lewd manner. Her chest rises and falls in a steady motion, and she forces herself closer.

"Yes, I have. The reapers were not as agreeable over me killing Grell Sutcliff as I hoped they would be," she quips, hoping her lie is convincing. Except, I hardly know if it's a lie, she thinks, the remorse stabbing her deep within. Sebastian looks unconvinced as he places a hand on her waist, massaging his fingers against the corset.

"Really?" he asks, that deep voice sending shivers through her body. His mouth quirks upward at the corners, forming a smile that would have every women out of her clothes at a moment's notice. But she is not every woman. She is Elizabeth Middleford. Bold as can be, she raises her hand to Sebastian's face.

"Care to see for yourself?" she asks, closing the gap between them even further. Sebastian closes his eyes and inhales deeply, his evil smile spreading across his face even wider. With his eyes half-lidded, he licks at the palm of her hand, just briefly, before kissing the skin there. His lips are cold and she shudders, but he mistakes it for arousal. Fixing his eyes to hers, he begins to unbutton her sleeve, pushing the fabric up her arm as he kisses along her veins.

"So delectable you are, now," he groans, sucking at the pale skin of her arm with equally pale lips, "That you have the scent of murder upon your flesh. I could just drink it in." Lizzie pulls her arm away, draping it over his shoulder, a practiced grin upon her own lips.

"Pray tell, Sebastian, what is stopping you?" she asks. Please, please forgive me, Ciel, she thinks, fighting back the urge to retch.

Sebastian's eyes widen, just slightly, in surprise, but an expression of want quickly takes place on his face. With more force than she expected, he completely closed the gap between them, placing his hands around her throat and ripping away the fabric there. Lizzie squeaks as he presses one kiss, two kiss, a bite, another bite against her neck, tonguing skin she never knew was so sensitive.

"Delicious," Sebastian groans, and her eyes widen when she realizes that there's a different hardness poking against her. There's another small scream that escapes from her lips once he places his hand against her breast, squeezing through the fabric. Every pinch, every lick and every suck fog Lizzie's head more.

Keep it together, Elizabeth, she tells herself, faking a moan as Sebastian kisses the hollow of her throat, gasping in surprise when he tears the fabric to expose her decollatage, even the tops of her breasts. You have the power, here. Your plan...remember the plan you made with Undertaker.

"Do you desire me, Sebastian?" she asks, hands pressed against his firm chest, pushing him away. Sebastian's face wears a mask of emotion she's never seen. Animal hunger, animal want, and it reminds her that Sebastian's base nature is of a beast. The quick glance he gives to the marks he's made on her throat serve as her answer.

"Miss Elizabeth," he says, trailing a finger over the half-moons of her breasts, peeking out from her dress, "Who wouldn't?"

She closes her eyes so she no longer has to look at his face. Ciel's face replaces his in her mind, with a flash of a certain blonde reaper that she must surpress. This is it, Elizabeth. You're almost there.

"Then, my demon," she coos, lips curled into a hopefully seductive smile, "I'll-"

A roar cuts her sentence short, a too familiar roar of a futuristic device. A scream soon replaces the sound, and she whirls around to see bright green eyes and a shock of blonde hair flying towards her.

No.

This is not part of the plan.

Sebastian rounds on her, a terrifying fury etched into his formerly handsome face. He's no longer the seductive butler, but a horrible demon. His red eyes now have slits for pupils, and his teeth elongate into horrid fangs.

"You...devious whore," he snarls, hand shooting out to wrap around her throat. She chokes as he lifts her from the ground, kicking her feet in hopes of hitting something vital.

"Get OFF her!" Ronald shouts, slamming into the both of them, knocking their bodies sideways. Lizzie collapses to the ground, coughing and spitting, looking up to see none other than a healthy Grell Sutcliff and cold-eyed Mr. Spears following Ronald.

Stop, stop, you're ruining everything, PLEASE, she wants to scream. Instead, she massages her throat, hoping her vocal cords aren't crushed.

"Hello, Ronald," Sebastian says, ice edging his voice, "I see you've come to fetch your damsel. What a silly, slutty damsel she is, too...throwing herself at me...does such an old reaper have feelings for a mere human?"

Ronald aims the death scythe at Sebastian, an expression of utmost hatred searing through his eyes.

"Don't you ever," he growls, "Call her a mere human again."

"Very well," Sebastian laughs, "I'll just call her a mere corpse."

With a snarl, Ronald raises his weapon, but the crimson reaper dives in front of him. With hazy eyes and ears, as though someone's placed a vaguely transparent sack over her head, Lizzie watches the scene unfurl before her, the scene of Grell taking Ronald's place in battle.

"Hush, darling, this isn't your fight," Grell's self-satisfactory smirk is back on his face as he raises his weapon, "I have a score to settle with this man...sending such a lovely lady after me, when he knows I much prefer men. So tell me, Sebby, would you like me to sever your head first, or shall I cut out your heart so I may hold it close?" The banter is just like how Grell spoke to her in the office. He's truly out to kill this time, she notes, watching him slash that magnificent weapon towards Sebastian. Their fight is practically a dance, as thought they've done this before. Which, they have, she remembers, but it's mesmerizing to watch anyways. They exchange words, and Ronald chastises them, she can tell, joining into the fight. Her eyes widen when she sees, by the light of the moon, Sebastian's hand transform. Claws now end his fingers, black talons gleaming too brightly.

"How did you react," she hears Sebastian sneer, "When such a cute little girl tore into you for killing her aunt?"

Grell freezes, and Lizzie wants to murder him for being so sensitive. That hesitation, once more, gives Grell's enemy the advantage. Sebastian raises his claw as Grell lowers his chainsaw just enough, and Lizzie can hardly see what happens next.

It's too fast.

Before she can blink, Mr. Spears jumps in front of Grell, shouting 'NO!'. Then Sebastian's hand slides across his throat, severing something that she doesn't know the proper name for. Mr. Spears stops, mid-air, turned to face Grell with a terrified look before crumpling to the ground. Red spills down his front, dying his white shirt. Grell can only stare for a split-second before a horrible scream escapes his throat.

"WILLIAM!"

Grell falls next to him, dragging the body away from Sebastian, the red becoming too bright in this dim light for Lizzie to bear looking at. She wishes she could turn off her hearing, because Grell's screams are too awful to listen to.

It's such an ignoble way to die, for a man like Mr. Spears.

Tears well up in her eyes.

It isn't fair.

Sebastian, not one to be swayed by such an emotional event, suddenly has a shocked Ronald by the throat, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter until he lets go of his death scythe. Lying weakened on the ground, Lizzie can only look up at the first man to make her feel like she has a real chance at feeling whole. The cold, unfamiliar weight presses against her torso, reminding her of how much she's failed. She has something that could end this...all of it. And yet, she's lying on the ground. Grell's completely gone, leaning over William's corpse and shielding him from view with his long, red hair. His whole body shakes with sobs, and the noises he makes send chills down Lizzie's spine. She would give Grell another few minutes before snapping and turning on Sebastian. However, Ronald would be dead by then.

"William," Grell whispers, "Will...come back. You can't leave me here. You can't leave me alone." Lizzie hadn't known that a reaper was capable of crying until then. She wants to offer Grell words of comfort, but when she remembers how she leaned over Ciel's dead body so many months ago, Lizzie realizes that she has no better coping mechanism now than she did then. Sebastian grins at her, his pointed teeth glinting in the dusk light. Ronald's beginning to go limp, the light fading from his green eyes as his skin turns paler and paler by the second. She can practically feel the smugness radiating from the demon:

I've won, little girl. I've won, and once I'm done with him, I'm coming for you.

"How does it feel?" she hears Sebastian gloat, smirking at Ronald, "Knowing that such a handsome, cocky young reaper like yourself couldn't even save one meager human...that you're leaving her to be devoured by a demon. Does it anger you, Ronald Knox?" Lizzie can see how the reaper kicks. She can hear his strangled cries, and it's killing her. But she still has her voice. She can still carry out her plan...but she knows it will kill Ronald to watch.

Lizzie takes in a deep breath, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes as she looks from Grell and William, to Ronald, to Sebastian. Her throat burns even more than her wrists, and she squeezes her eyes shut to imagine a young man with blue-gray hair and one single stunning blue eye...he becomes a child in her brain once more. She remembers being close to his age, when she was silly and young. She wonders if he felt this anguish. Now, it's irrelevant. It's her decision. Not his.

"DEMON!" she screams, her furious voice soaring upward to reach Sebastian's ears. His dark ruby eyes fixate on her, and he lets hand on Ronald's throat relax just a little. She struggles to sit up, tears trickling from her eyes as she tries to keep her voice loud.

"I'll make a contract with you!"


	10. The Lady, Sacrificing

Everyone freezes the minute she says the words. Ronald looks over at her in anguish, shaking his head as best as he can under Sebastian's grip.

"Liz, Liz, you can't-augh!" he coughs as Sebastian tightens his hand once more. From where she lies on the ground, mere meters away, she can see how those demonic red eyes widen in delight, the slits of pupils emphasizing the crimson glow. With a smirk, the hated demon slides his hand over Ronald's neck, some of the exposed chest, and lightly presses down with a white finger. The reaper screams and thrashes, in apparent agony as Sebastian's vicious grin only widens.

"STOP!" she screams, trying to scramble over to them. Suddenly, Sebastian drops him onto the ground, turning Ronald into a twitching mess.

He leaves the reaper immobilized on the floor, a bruise forming over one eye and blood trickling from a deep cut in his head. He's half-conscious at this point, little moans of pain slipping from between his chapped lips. Liz...she can hear him calling for her as Sebastian takes such smooth, deliberate steps to where she slumps on her knees.

"What did you do to him?" she asks, more furious than she's been for a long time. Sebastian approaches her, the calm, easy smile back on his face.

"You're familiar with pressure points, of course. I just took basic anatomy a step further..."

The black dress Undertaker gave her seems more appropriate than ever. She feels something cold slide by her wrists, and suddenly her senses are alert once more. Sebastian leans over her, tall and lanky, with overgrown black hair falling into his face. He's still wearing the clothes Ciel gave him, she notices, the black butler uniform with the family pin.

"You have no right to wear the clothes he bought for you," she mutters, holding back a wince as he yanks her to her feet. Sebastian chuckles, causing Ronald to mutter something incomprehensible and angry. The demon turns around with a small frown before kicking Ronald to the ground, next to William's corpse and Grell's grieving figure.

"In your eyes, I don't have a right to do many things. Yet, I do them anyways," he chuckles, "It's amusing, hmm?" Lizzie tries to scream for Ronald, but nothing comes out of her throat, for she feels too responsible for all of this. Without her, William would still be alive, and Grell would be able to fight...Ronald wouldn't be so close to death. Keep calm, Elizabeth, she reminds herself, Stick to the plan.

"I'll kill you," Grell growls, shoulders shaking as he pulls William into his lap, attempting to wrap the wound, "I swear, I'll do it." Lizzie feels pain when she hears him speak, red hair falling into a tear-stained face. There are no traces of flirtation or happiness; this is no longer a game for Grell. He sounds absolutely broken. Sebastian sneers at the reaper, an expression of utter disgust on his face.

"Do you not see your dead lover, Grell Sutcliff? I'm stronger. I've won. You are weak...you are beneath me," he growls, raising his hand to send Grell to join the bloodied William. Lizzie shouts for him, grabbing at his arm with fierce green eyes she sees reflected in his pupils.

"Leave him," she orders, "He'd...he'd be too happy to die with Spears. Lover tragedies and all of that rot." Forgive me, Grell, forgive me, she whispers internally, watching the look of pain and anguish consume his pale, blood-spattered face. Sebastian's lips curl into that feral smile as he slides his arm around her waist.

"Care to explain why they showed up, my lovely lady?" he asks, all sweetness and honey with underlying venom. It's a threat. Tell or die. She smiles back with an equal level of charm, pressing her bosom to him, and thanking nature for blessing her so.

"I left them to come find you," she murmurs, "Even if I find you loathsome, I want a contract with you, Sebastian. You are quite right. I am tainted. There's no going back for me. I certainly don't want to be stuck in a reaper realm, so why not turn to a demon?" Sebastian's smile softens, and he reaches to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear...a cruel gesture. Too much like Ciel. Too much like Ronald. It's too close to past genuine affectionate gestures, and she wants to die. Well, that will happen soon enough. Sebastian inhales, the feral smile returning to his face.

"So...corrupt, now. And yet, so pure. Are you sure you want to form a contract with me, and sell your soul to the devil? Are you sure that someone hasn't just taken a fancy to the stories of Dr. Faust?" Lizzie closes her eyes, shaking her head. This is real. She's still processing that. This hell is happening to her. She hears a gasp and looks over to see Ronald struggling towards them.

"No," he begs, coughing and massaging his abused throat. His voice sounds like it belongs to a different person, but the face remains the same. Green eyes plea with her, tears form and slide down his cheeks as he extends a shaking arm, "Liz...Lizzie...please, don't. This isn't you, he's doing something, remember what we were planning to do! Together...we were together." He's struggling on the ground, and his eyes keep flickering to a near-catatonic Grell, "We were going to win together."

Sebastian looks at Ron as though he is a bug, and merely tugs at his gloves with a nasty smirk upon his lips. He rubs against her wrists, as though to remind her that she's already agreed to become his.

"Allow me to dispose of this trash, dearest Miss Elizabeth," he coos in the slickest, slimiest tone she's ever heard. Once again though, she places a hand on his arm and steps forward to Ronald. He's covered in sweat, tears, and blood; his normally pristine clothing is ripped and wrinkled. His hair's in disarray, and she finds that she wants to hold him and assure him that she is still Miss Liz. But she cannot. That time is gone.

"You pathetic little insect," she sneers, "We were going to win together? How could such a lowly, weak reaper do anything for me? For months I stayed with your kind, and received nothing but a knife in my back with the killing of my beloved aunt. While Sebastian isn't a saint, at least he's not a vindictive liar who just wants to play with a stupid human."

Ronald looks absolutely shattered by her words.

Elizabeth turns on her heel and walks back to Sebastian, her black skirt fluttering from the fresh gusts of wind. He stands there, coat tails fluttering, skin pale as the moon shining above, with his bright crimson eyes fixed on hers.

"Sebastian," she whispers, allowing him to take her hand, "I am sure in my wish."

The dark-haired demon bows low, showing his teeth with a smile. Pointed. Evil. His eyes are no longer crimson, but now slits of an even brighter ruby. His nails, a rich black, dig into her skin as he takes her by the hand.

"You are an adult now, my dearest Miss Elizabeth," he murmurs, "And I seal those contracts...in a different way."

Ronald swears, struggling to his feet, but Sebastian merely raises a hand and pushes him backwards, toppling against the hard floor. Elizabeth's heart picks up speed as she nears closer to the demon, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in a long time.

"A kiss is a powerful seal," he whispers, placing his white hands beneath her chin. Sebastian's eyes shut, but hers remain open as he places his mouth over hers, planting a deep kiss against her lips. She does not look at him. She looks at Ronald, tears slipping out of her own eyes, rolling down her cheeks.

A look of understanding comes over Ronald's face and he shakes his head fervently, forcing himself up off the ground and grabbing Grell's discarded chainsaw.

"NO!" he roars as Sebastian chuckles into their embrace, snapping his fingers and causing everything to disappear.

-

She's suspended. The black dress fans out around her, petticoats rustling in a mysterious wind as Sebastian pulls away from the kiss. His eyes are bright red coals set in a pale white face as she watches him tug off the glove. The same markings from Ciel's eye lie on his hand, and she realizes that it's the seal of the contract.

"Now, Ciel gave me his eye," Sebastian chuckled, and Lizzie swears that she sees his form flicker between his somewhat human self and that monster from so many months ago. "What shall you gift to me, my lady?" he asks. The memory makes her feel nauseous, but not as nauseous as Sebastian's hand trailing over her body. His smile sickens all parts of her, but if there was one thing she learned from the reapers, it's that being an actress is one of the biggest talents to have.

She pulls away from Sebastian, the black dress swirling all around her like a mass of soft midnight. Blonde waves flow freely, no longer constrained by tightly wound twintails. Lizzie tilts her head up to the nonexistent ceiling, looking into the endless dark sky. Ciel, she thinks, starting to unbutton her dress, exposing white collarbone to the strange world, I love you, Ciel. She can feel Sebastian's gaze couple with the coldness pressed against her stomach.

Now, her chest is revealed, the décolletage and palest tops of her breasts peeking through black fabric. Lizzie places her hand over her chest, feeling the wickedly fast heartbeat pump blood through her body. With a weight in her stomach, she realizes that it'll be one of the last times she'll feel such a thing. At least, the last time she'll feel such a thing as a human. She doesn't know what's yet to come.

"Ciel gave you his eye," she whispers, "I remember how everyone claimed his eyes were the most beautiful part of him, for they were. They are. That stunning blue color, it's one I'll never forget. But Sebastian, I give you the most stunning part of me...my heart."

As she inhales, Lizzie knows she sees a condescending smirk tugging at the corners of Sebastian's lips, but she holds her stony gaze. "My heart is one that's been through hell for a boy who chose revenge over love, one that's been torn away from a cold family, one that's felt the pain and suffering of being a girl so different and untouchable all her life. My heart is one that's been loaned to a boy who lost his a long time ago. My heart is one that's dying because I will never see any of my loves after today. And so, Sebastian..." a mirthful smile appears on her lips as she locks eyes with the demon once more, "Does a monster like yourself not find my heart stunning?"

Sebastian bows deeply, lips twitching in a smile.

"I find your heart absolutely beautiful, my lady," he says, voice dripping with a saccharine note that makes her skin crawl, "And I'll be honored to claim your heart for my own."

The demon glides toward her, and she steels her nerves against the flickering image before her. A hand, then a claw, then a hand against presses against her chest. He begins to speak, but not with his lips, but with his mind.

"Do you wish to make a contract with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to leave a normal life behind forever?"

"Yes."

"Will you give up everything for a mere wish?"

"Yes."

"Will you give yourself to me at the end, body and soul, for me to consume?"

...

"No."

Her hands find the coldness pressed against her abdomen and yank it from the fabric shield.

Such a lovely scythe.

Even if I do prefer swords.

Before the demon can even comprehend the break she's made, she screams like a wild woman and drives the little scythe deep within his chest, the hilt sticking out, just like it had when she used it to pierce Grell mere hours ago. Sebastian lets out an ethereal scream, otherworldly and downright horrifying, for it chills Lizzie to the bone as she watches the blackness of the world begin to dissolve. It's still a haze, as though someone's blown thick smoke over her world.

A scythe to the heart, the Undertaker's words echo in her mind, A few centimeters off and he'll live...but if by chance you stab him through the heart, he's done, littlest lady.

But really, it's a death wish.

You will never succeed

That fact no longer concerns her.

Then a blinding pain sears through her chest, and she realizes she acted too late. Sebastian's fingers sink deep into her skin, and her eyes widen as a bright blue fire engulfs their bodies. The familiar sensation of skin splitting open flows over her chest, and Lizzie feels blood trickling down. This pain, she realizes, driving the scythe deeper into Sebastian's chest, causing a guttural roar to in her ears, It's nothing. Through the fire, she can see a blur of a gold and green and fury speeding towards them. Lizzie focuses on Sebastian as the world comes back into view, her whole body shaking as his power slowly overtakes hers.

"Fool," Sebastian snarls, despite the fact that he's been weakened by a scythe to the heart, "You...are such a fool."

Suddenly, there is white.

-

Ronald's limbs shake on the ground, tingling with pins and needles as his muscles twitch in pain. He feels a lump rising in his throat, and a painful stinging in his eyes as he stares at the spot where he watched Lizzie disappear. The girl vanished in a wisp of jet-black smoke, wrapped in a demon's embrace. But, she looked at him. Only him. Her eyes…he thinks, remembering how she smiled, even as a demon stole her away, They looked so…human, he thinks, clenching his teeth and allowing tears to spill over. He forces his hands to move, despite the pain, pushing himself of the ground into a kneeling position. Heh, like a prayer, he realizes, How funny, for a reaper to pray. I would if I could. Fists pressing against the ground, all he can see in his mind is her face.

"Lizzie…" he whispers, the name a ghost on his lips, just like the girl, "My Lizzie…

"Ronald," he hears Grell say in a voiced roughened from the sobs shed over a dead man, "She is not your Lizzie anymore. You were wrong about her. Look at what's come from you lusting over a despicable, pathetic human," he spits in a voice more disgusted and bitter than anything Ronald's heard from his senior before, "Look at us." But Ronald can't. He can't look at his the two dead reapers, one dead in body, one dead in spirit. He can't, not after he just lost so much.

"But you're wrong about her," he chokes, "I saw her face before he took her. She didn't mean a single word, not one." He can hear Grell's harsh scoff.

"Humans are all the same. They all go bad in the end, every last one of them. Why are you so insistent about wanting a stupid human, Ronald? How can you think she's still good?" Grell screams, a terrible noise shot straight through hell. The wind sweeps over Ronald as he kneels on the roof, rustling his dark blonde hair. Tilting his neck back, he stares up at the dark London sky. For the first time in forever, he sees stars shining over England. Bright, even through the filthy sky.

"Because," he says, wobbling to his feet, "I can see the good in her. She's like…she's like these stars, as dumb as that sounds. Guess that makes me the dark London sky. Grell," he turns to his senior, who still holds William so desperately, "I…I love her. I do."

And she died to protect me, that part goes unspoken. 

Grell's eyes begin to water again; he wears an expression Ronald cannot place as he looks down at William serene face, crimson hair falling to shield them once more. The phrase still lingers on Ronald's lips as he turns his attention back to the sky.

"I love her. Lizzie. But…no," he whispers, struggling to stay on his feet, "I can't just give up like this. I can't let it end this way. No, I won't let it end this way!" he shouts, glaring at the sky, "Bring her back! You goddamn demon, BRING HER BACK! I won't let you win, not this time, you filthy animal." With a fierce expression, Ronald takes a deep breath and looses a scream that sends chills over his body.

"LIZ!"

There's a crashing, thundering noise that explodes overhead, loud enough to destroy a human's eardrums, accompanied by a bright light that Ronald shields himself from. When he looks back up…she's there. Lizzie, with a fierce expression to match the fierce demon-blue fire that surrounds her, glares at Sebastian, who wears a look of horror. A scythe, Ronald notices, the small training scythe that she stabbed Grell witch, sticks out of his chest.

"You stupid human," he hears the demon snarl, and before he can react, Ronald watches with horror as the demon grips his fire-coated hand tighter against her chest, obviously meant to sear something into her flesh. The contract, he realizes, seeing how Sebastian struggles to do anything with the blade in his chest. Lizzie screams in pain, driving the blade deeper, and Ronald finds himself running towards the two with nothing but his hands to use as weapons.

Shouting and swearing, Ronald punches Sebastian in the face, knocking the two to the ground. The demon actually falls to the side, taken aback by the scythe and the fist, leaving Ronald free to catch Lizzie before she hits the ground. At first overjoyed to hold her once again, the happiness quickly dissipates when he sees the look in her eyes…or the lack of a look. Those green eyes, normally so bright and beautiful, no longer shine with delight, or anything. They're…empty. He notices the bloody mark on her chest next, a half-formed design of something that drips with the red liquid so familiar to humans and reapers alike.

No.

Please, please no.

"You foolish reaper," Sebastian laughs, stumbling to his feet with a maniacal expression on his face as he pulls the scythe out, blood pouring from his chest as it clatters to the ground, "Interrupting the middle of a contract…did you learn nothing in school?"

"What happened to her?" Ronald hisses, holding Lizzie close to his chest, trying to make life appear in her eyes once again, "Why isn't she saying anything?" Sebastian's bright red eyes widen in a macabre happiness as he smiles to show off the pointed, gleaming teeth of a demon.

"Elizabeth is gone," he says, "All that's left is a body. And soon, not even that." Ronald, limbs still weakened from earlier, shields her body from the demon, glaring at him with hatred strong enough to set him on fire once more. I will protect her, he insists, I will.

But then, Sebastian changes.

Ronald watches something slither beneath Sebastian's human skin, eyes growing darker, fangs more prominent, and the form becomes taller and so horribly grotesque and terrifying that Ronald feels like that child from so many hundreds of years ago, shaking in his bed and waiting for a mother, a father, someone to save him from a gruesome death. No, he thinks, his hands shaking in terror, No…

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he whispers, burying his face into her sweet-smelling hair, "I'm so, so sorry."

He waits.

But, there is no promised white light.

Instead, a bloodcurdling scream splits the night like a butcher knife, and Ronald looks up to see Grell running, fury in his eyes and chainsaw in his hand, towards Sebastian, the mania unlike the twisted Grell he's known in the past, or the delighted Grell he sees after a good fight, but more like a horrible, vengeful…human.

"YOU!" Sebastian roars, raising a claw to slice Grell to pieces, but the red reaper is too quick this time.

"I won't lose to the likes of you again," Grell snarls, swiping the chainsaw to slice off those fingers, causing Sebastian to cry out in pain, "Not this time!" another swipe, and there's suddenly a deep cut in the demon's arm, and Grell pulls away, only to fly back towards the monster once more.

"Not after William."

Sebastian opens his mouth, but no words ever leave.

Ronald can only stare, openmouthed in shock as Grell swings the chainsaw with an unseen ferocity, slicing a perfectly straight line across Sebastian's long, white neck.

A head falls to the ground with a quiet thunk, quickly followed by the sound of Grell's chainsaw replacing where trainee scythe was just moments ago with a squelching noise that makes Ronald feel nauseous.

And then it's over.

All falls silent, save for Grell's ragged breathing.

"I did it, Will," Grell whispers, shoulders shaking as he stares down at the carnage, "I did it." Ronald notices that the red reaper lacks the trademark crazy post-kill grin. He lacks any expression as he sinks to his knees, putting all of his weight on the chainsaw as tears start sliding down his cheeks again. Despite the pain, Ronald sets Lizzie to lie down, gulping back the lump in his throat when he looks at her empty face once more. But you're not the only one in pain, Knox, he reminds himself, carefully walking over to Grell and wrapping his arms around his senior, giving him a hug for the first time in what seems like forever.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. The red reaper, so many centuries older than him, now seems like a small child as he buries his face into Ronald's shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do now, Ronnie?" he sobs, "After so many years together? What do I do?"

Ronald looks from the broken face of his crying mentor over to the limp, lifeless body of the girl he never got to confess to. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, burying his face into Grell's hair, equally as childish.

"I don't know," he says, voice cracking as he struggles to keep composed, "Grell, I don't know anything."

-

Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford feels free for the first time in her life.

There's nothing but whiteness surrounding her, a brightly, heavenly light that she floats on. It turns her plain blonde hair, released from constricting English hairstyles, a bright, shimmery gold. She feels so beautiful in this place of light and air, and her appearance reflects it all. The black dress, she notices, vanished, replaced with a swirling white dress straight out of a fairytale.

Her feet find solid ground, although the whiteness of the world gives no indication of dimension or planes, and she takes off running. She runs from nothing for once, but instead to see how far she can go before she has to stop. Lizzie takes a leap, soaring into the air like a veteran ballerina, and lands on softness, twirling so the skirt swirls about. The English rose resembles a wildflower now as she dances about with glee, free from pain and sorrow. It's only when she finally sinks to the ground, panting from her activities, that a memory comes to greet her.

A shadow stretches over her, and she looks up to find that her heart's constricting, for what she sees cannot be real. Dark grey hair, pale skin, and two brilliant blue eyes shine before her, the only unfamiliar thing being a blindingly beautiful smile spread across a face she's loved for so long.

"Hello, Lizzie," Ciel says, extending his hand towards her, "I've missed you so much."


	11. The Lady, Trying

She can hardly believe that it is indeed Ciel standing before her, looking ageless and lovely with that rare smile spread across his face. Lizzie hasn’t seen him without the eyepatch for years now, and just the sight of those twin blue eyes is enough to make her feel dizzy. She can feel tears dripping down her cheeks, and she raises a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs. It’s him. It’s really him. A look of concern crosses his face, but as he moves to comfort her, she realizes that she’s tripping forward, stumbling over her own feet as she rushes at him. Blonde hair streams out behind her, glinting in the unearthly sunlight. Arms wrapping around him, she practically tackles Ciel to the ground, just as she did when she was a young, obnoxious child. But, this time, Ciel’s arms return the hug, and the sound of his laughter makes her feel more alive than anything else she’s heard before.

“Ciel,” she cries, gripping onto his shirt, burying her face in his chest, “I never thought I would see you again, not after that night, oh, Ciel...” They stand in silence like that, just for a few moments, and she will savor this moment, for only God (if there even if a God) knows when she will get this chance to hold him again. 

“I was such a fool,” Ciel murmurs, placing a hand on her hair, stroking the loose curls, “To think that I could hide the truth of the underworld from a clever woman like you. Waiting up here, I never thought I would get the chance to speak with you again, to apologize, to tell you everything, try to explain.” He cuts off the ' _all that I’ve been hiding these past years from you'_ part.  He looks surprised as she places a finger against his lips, shushing him for once. She offers him a small smile, and a remorseful expression flickers over his face. Ciel shuts his eyes, turning away from her, but Elizabeth places her hand against his cheek and leans down to press a kiss on the eyelid hidden for so many years.

“Incredible that you managed to stay taller than me,” he mutters, sounding like the petulant boy she loved back on Earth. She laughs, but grows solemn once more when she saw the expression upon his face.

“My Ciel,” she says, pulling away from him, “Why did you keep such secrets from me? Why...why did you stay with that wretch of a demon?” Ciel looks to be in pain as he leans against her, looking every inch the beaten child she saw in the hospital after ‘the incident.’

“The despair I felt...the isolation, the pain, the anger, it all caused me to call for him. I sold my soul. I stayed with him. I used him and he used me, because, Lizzie, who else did I have? That is why I’m here. I am not in hell...I am not in heaven...I am just here, able to watch over my loved ones on earth, but never able to interfere.” Lizzie feels that sickness deep in her stomach when her mind flashes back to being pinned on the bed by Sebastian, violated and disturbed by the monster. “I am so sorry. I feel...I feel so much remorse.” Ciel’s hands shake, and Elizabeth takes the opportunity to draw her loved one close to her chest, offering him the support she never could at home.

“I am here with you,” Lizzie whispers, “And I shall not leave you a second time, Ciel.” He buries his face against her shoulder, the two of them sinking to the soft ground. Lizzie remembers the ship from all those years ago, the promise she made. _This time, I will protect you_. She does not intend to break that promise now. Not after everything the two of them have gone through...

Ciel presses his hand against her clothed chest, delicate fingers finding the buttons and working to undo them. A few months ago, Lizzie would have felt nervous at her fiance undressing her, but now they are alone. This kind of intimacy goes beyond what she expected on a wedding night. He only unbuttons her to examine the skin of her decollatage, stopping at the tops of her breasts. She looks down at her skin to see what keeps his eyes so fascinated and lets out a gasp at the markings there, burned into her skin.

Sebastian’s contract mark...or half of it, at least. White, raised scarring that stands out even paler than her skin. Nothing human could make a mark like that.

Ciel’s face breaks into a pained smile, and tears roll from the corners of his eyes.

“Elizabeth,” he laughs, blinking back tears, “You are as reckless now as you were as a child. Avenging the Queen’s watchdog...I’d hoped you would forget about this mongrel. I am not worth it,” his slender, smooth hand presses against the scar, right over her heart, “I am not worth your heart. Not after everything I’ve done to you.” Lizzie shakes her head fervently, grasping at Ciel’s hand with her own hands, roughened from the months of training with reapers. She presses a reassuring kiss against his forehead.

“I regret none of my actions,” she insists, “You should know that, if you’ve been watching me. I did exactly what I wanted. I killed Sebastian Michaelis. Or, Grell Sutcliff did, but I did stab him first.” Ciel bites back a laugh, she can tell, but the pain never leaves his eyes. “I saw...I felt a great pain leaving as that man died. A great sadness too. I grew to care for him, stupid as it sounds. He was the only one I could entrust my secret to,” Ciel murmurs, the bitter tones flowing through his words. Lizzie squeezes his hand once more. “No more secrets, Ciel. We can stay like this forever.” Ciel looks absolutely horrorstruck.

“Elizabeth, are you mad? You wish to stay here with me in this soulless limbo when you could return, albeit, to a different life? You still have your soul...Sebastian never took all of you,” he says, and she can hear the anguish creeping into his voice, “He never stole your life.” She feels her stomach drop at the words, and the childlike tears begin forming once more. When she opens her mouth to respond, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I loved you from afar. I wanted to keep you safe that way. Clearly,” he chuckles, “That didn’t exactly work out. Elizabeth, you deserve a man. Not a scared boy who fears losing everyone he loves. You need someone who will love you as you deserve. I took, and I took...but I never gave,” he admits, “Far too self-absorbed for that, I was. And I can see it in your eyes. You met another.”

Lizzie freezes, her tongue weighing heavy in her mouth as she struggles to form a proper response. He can probably feel how her hands tremble, she realizes, but she also knows that she no longer wishes to hide anything from him. “You...you’ve had quite awhile alone to think, haven’t you, Ciel?” she laughs, soft and sad, bringing his hands up to brush a kiss along the soft skin, “To be at the point where you can see right through me. Please, I beg of you, do not think poorly of me for running off with him so soon after, so soon...” she feels the familiar lump in her throat, eyes screwing shut to prevent tears as the image of Ciel’s limp corpse on the floor swims before her vision.Ciel sighs, begrudgingly standing on his tip toes to kiss her forehead gently as he brushes back her waves.

“Honestly, Elizabeth, do you think I am in any position to think poorly of another? Me, a lord of the underworld, boy who sold his soul for revenge, who gave up love for wrath and a smile for a scowl? You, you should be the one to think poorly of me...not the other way around.” As he pulls away from her, she can see his face clearly in the soft, but bright light, but now he looks like the same gaunt, morose Ciel with regret in his eyes and gray in his skin that she knew back in her world. She does not touch him, but only looks, her eyes curiously scanning his form.

“Ciel,” she starts, “You honestly want me to try returning to the human world?” He nods, his shining blue eyes pleading with her to take his words into consideration.

“Try, Elizabeth. Try for me. Purgatory is no place for a knight like you.” She feels something swell within her chest, and suddenly lunges forward to kiss Ciel fully, and it’s a kiss full of goodbyes, regret, I shall miss you, and good luck. He, for the first time she can ever remember, returns her kiss in its entirety. He looks renewed when she pulls away, bows his head with a graceful smile as she turns away from him. Lizzie has no clue at all who she should try contacting to get out of this universe. She figures that screaming to the sky is as good a place as any to start. 

“I wish to go back,” she shouts, pulling open her shirt to reveal the half-mark, “This is no binding contract. I shall not be kept in purgatory, not when I have matters to attend to back in my world.” There is silence, and she feels Ciel’s soft hand ghosting along her shoulder, hears his last whisper of, ‘ _Good luck, Lizzie_ ,’ before the light consumes her entirely.

-

Her body is gone, which does not surprise her, honestly. She knows her body is back in the human realm. All that she has is a soul. Honestly, that alone makes her the happiest girl possible. She escaped with a soul.

“Please, let me back,” she says, only she has no voice to speak with. Her words drift through the atmosphere, intangible in all forms, but she can still sense them around her, “Allow me to return to my body.”

“That is not possible,” an androgynous, godly voice responds, “We do not tangle with the deals of demons. We cannot entirely erase a broken contract.” “ _Who is ‘we’_?” she asks, but she notes that her words have been erased before they can even drift.

Lizzie tries again, forcing her thoughts into the open, “What must I do then, to return to the human realm?” Their answer flows through her, wrapping into the most intimate parts of her soul, coating every nook and cranny with information that overwhelms her, information that would cause tears or a blush or a mental breakdown if she had a normal body.

“Few people choose that,” the voice responds, “For it is a hellish, bloodied, and all but damned life to lead. Most would rather leave for purgatory, or the underworld, even.” Lizzie laughs, or at least tries to laugh in this odd realm of nothingness.

“I have seen the underworld. It does not have much to offer,” she notes, “I...I accept. I accept it all. But-”

“But what?” the voice interjects, “None have ever attempted a ‘but’ before. What conditions do you have, Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford?” Had she a body, Lizzie would have attempted to take a deep breath. But, she lacks one, and instead must be straightforward.

“I want one last visit to the human realm in the form of my choosing.”

There is no response. For a brief moment, Lizzie worries she will be send straight back to that odd purgatory.

And then, light once more.

She wonders if anyone ever disappears into darkness when not dealing with evil.

-

It is a rare clear day in England, and Finny wakes up early enough to see the sun rise, giving the day a pleasant start. The Middleford household is calm, quiet, for he is almost always the first one up, aside from the chef. There is still the slightest of twinges within his chest when he remembers that Bard and Mei-Rin did not come with him to the Marchioness’ household, choosing to find other work after the horrible incident with...him. A man Finnian had once thought to be an angel, for who else would take on such a poor, lost soul?

Such a pity, others had tutted, turning their noses up at Mr. Phantomhive’s casket, and he remembers Edward Middleford, now Ed, taking his arm and giving him a stern look. Guidance. It was one of the things he needed most after the debacle, and Edward was particularly good at giving it. With a grin at the thought of getting to spend the day training with the blade, well, after taking care of the garden, Finny practically leaps into his clothes and hurries downstairs to care for the Middleford’s modest, but elegant, garden. It is much harder to ruin work if there is something to look forward to after, he finds. Roses clipped, plants watered, fertilized, etcetera, and then done. Finny is not very talented. He does what he can.

Edward meets him at the front of the house, a smirk on his face. “Efficient today, aren’t we Finny? That eager to practice your bladework? Your strength alone could win any match,” he teases. Finny smiles up at him, as though to bring a bit of outdoor’s sunshine in with him.

“There’s that line about brains and brawn, but I can see you have neither!” he jabs, taking pleasure in the fact that the Middleford’s treat him enough like family that they can do this now. There’s that nagging feeling that it may be due to his sunshine lips, green eyes, and fair hair...but he does not wish to think of that. Edward ruffles his sweaty, filthy hair, orders him to wash and suit up, and whisks away to fetch his own gear. He stops by the Marchioness’ study to leave a boquet of flowers collected from the garden, only to find a pair of new fencing gloves with a note reading, “For Finnian,” attached to the them. With a broad smile, he pulls them on, finding that they fit absolutely perfectly, as everything they’ve given him has. They are so, incredibly, so very kind, even kinder than...than Sebastian was. Finnian’s head swims, briefly, enough to make him nearly fall backwards when he turns to see the sight before him.

It’s Elizabeth.

_Miss Elizabeth._

She’s standing there, lovey as ever, in a pretty green gown to match the green of her eyes. However, the girl does not look human. She resembles an angel far more closely, with how her skin glows peach and eyes emerald as she peers at him.

“Finny? Finnian?” she asks, her voice still animated as he last remembered, “What are you doing in my house?” He staggers, clutching the Marchioness’ desk for support, the new gloves weighing down his hands as though they were made of iron. She rushes forward to help him, and her hand feels like ice on his arm, causing his heart to speed up in fear.

“Miss, oh, Miss Elizabeth,” he gasps, “I-I thought you were dead, I work here, I am the gardener, as Phantomhive’s house is no more and Marchioness, your mother, t-thought I could be trained in swordfighting and, oh Miss Elizabeth, where have you been?” There’s fresh tears in his eyes that weren’t there a split second ago, rolling down his cheeks as he stares at the girl who has been missing for months upon months, only to turn up with nary a scratch on her porcelein cheek. He’s snivelling at the sight of the girl he’s known since she was barely a lady, hand clapped over his mouth, “I found you screaming yourself into silence over Master Ciel’s body, covered in his blood, the palest I’d ever seen you, and then I hear that you vanish just a few days later and Miss Elizabeth, why?” Her bottom lip wibbles just as bad as his does, and suddenly Elizabeth throws herself at him, wrapping his arms around his skinny shoulders.

“I am glad that you are the one I get to talk with, Finny,” she whispers, trembling, still cold as ice, “For if it hurts this much seeing you, I cannot bear to think what talking to Mother or Edward or Father would be like.” Finnian pulls away, a look of shock upon his face.

“What are you saying, Elizabeth? We must get them at once, they’ll want to know what’s happened, Sebastian is still-”

“He is dead,” she says, a note of finality in her voice that causes a coldness to trickle down his spine, “I saw him die. Beheaded, actually. Most satisfying. And only you can see me right now, Finnian. That is how they willed it...that is the bargain they drove,” she whispers, a note of sadness in her otherwise happy voice. She sounds so different. She is so different. Regal, even, a true lady crafted from ivory and blood...and she terrifies Finnian.

He shakes his head, “Wait, no, Miss Elizabeth, you confuse me so, why can only I see you? I am but a mere servant-”

“Hush, Finnian, do not call yourself that. I am not blind to your strength, nor the number of times you’ve protected me. I am glad that you were the first one to see me, and, oh, I haven’t much time. Finny,” she smiles, and he catches a glimpse of that bubbling young girl, “Are Mother, Father, and Edward well?” Finnian hesitates before nodding.

“They...they miss you, they miss you terribly. I spar with Master Edward, and I can tell I am a poor substitute for a genius little lady. He compared me to sunshine...so did Marchioness. Nothing like you, though, Miss Elizabeth.” To his surprise, Elizabeth looks absolutely delighted, long blonde waves framing her shining face. She grasps his hand in hers, wearing a triumphant expression.

“I am so very pleased to hear that you have brought some sun into this dreary mansion, Finnian. They do not need a reminder of me...they do not need my sun. They need _a_ sun. I miss them dreadfully, always, always...but you must promise me this, before I leave forever, Finny,” she smiles once more, and he feels warmed from within, “You must never let darkness overtake their lives again.” Finny drops to the floor, kneeling before Elizabeth and pressing a kiss to her hand through the beacon of a grin upon his face.

“Yes, of course, my lady, I am just so glad...”

And she is gone.

“Finny!” Edward calls from across the house, “Stop dallying with whatever you are up to and join me for a match!” Finnian feels absolutely drained by that encounter as he slumps to the floor, wondering if he’s gone absolutely insane. However, he hears Elizabeth’s sweet parting words. _You must never let darkness overtake their lives again_. He wipes the tears forming at the corners of his eyes and stands, grabbing onto the new fencing gloves. Finny is not very talented. He does what he can. And, as he traipses into the fencing room to face a delighted Edward, he realizes what he can offer the Middlefords: a sun, after so many months of darkness.  

-

Elizabeth feels weakened by the excursion to her home, practically tumbling back into the purely spiritual realm, grasping for any source of strength to keep her from falling to pieces.

“Souls are not meant to wander without a body,” the voice chastises her, “Now, Miss Elizabeth. Are you prepared to face an uncertain future?”

Elizabeth feels many things at once, rushing into her, out of her, but somehow manages to respond.

“Yes.”


	12. The Lady, Resurrecting

Ronald cradles Elizabeth in his arms, trying to stem the flow of his tears as he gazes down at the beautiful, glass-eyed girl. Grell kneels next to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, face pressed into his shoulder blades. He feels his senior's blood-spattered hands on his, guiding them away from Lizzie's white face.

"Ronald, dear," Grell whispers, tugging at his bloodied sleeves, "Ronald...you have to let her go." He shakes his head, refusing to budge from the spot, adjusting Lizzie's weight in his lap, "My dear, she is gone-"

"No," he snaps, "She's not. She's still here, somewhere, I know it. Please, Grell, please, don't make me leave her...again. I can't do that to her." Grell keeps his eyes, reddened with tears shed over William, trained on Ronald. His hair spills over the two of them, and Ronald suddenly feels a thousand years younger, like a lost little new reaper that Grell decided to take care of.

"I should be taking care of you," Ronald whispers, "You've lost just as much...no, more, I'm sorry." Grell stands up, brushing his hair over his shoulder. Ronald tears his eyes away from Elizabeth, looking up at his senior. To his surprise, Grell does not look as horrorstruck anymore, but exhausted and tearful, red hair matted with Sebastian's redder blood.

Grell leans over to brush a kiss against Ronald's forehead, causing tears to slide down his cheek once more. It was never supposed to happen this way, with William lying dead just feet away, ripped apart by that demon, and Elizabeth, beautiful Miss Liz, soulless in his arms.

"There are different kinds of loss, Ronnie," Grell whispers, "Please, find some peace...tell her what you always wanted to. I should tend to William." Ronald bites down on his lip, nodding at Grell as the crimson reaper leaves him alone. It hurts to look at Elizabeth now, he realizes, it hurts far more than if she were actually dead. He can feel the steady flutter of her heartbeat as he takes her hand in his. With trembling fingers, he closes her eyelids, so she looks like she's sleeping. Ronald gulps back a sob, shuddering against her limp body.

"Elizabeth," he whispers, "I am so sorry that I let this happen to you. If I could turn back time, no matter the cost, I would, I would go back to the night I whisked you away from the human world and make sure that we never met. You would stay human, you would stay safe, you would not know this pain...we would've all kept going. Such a human trait, isn't it, 'keep going on'? Oh, Liz." his hands slip around her waist, "I am so sorry for loving you. It's a shitty thing for me to do, fall in love with a human and hope that she sees something in me worth loving." To his dismay, tears slide down his cheeks, splashing on her face. "You are the most extraordinary human I've ever had the fortune of knowing. And if I live another thousand years, I will never, ever forget you."

The murky sky above opens up, releasing a torrent of rain upon them as Ronald leans over Elizabeth, pressing his lips against hers. This kiss is soft as her lower lip, and the rain falling upon them slides down Ronald's glasses, obscuring his vision. Elizabeth tastes like sunshine, even on this dark, rainy day. "I love you," he whispers, "My Miss Liz. I'll never stop."

The sky cracks with lightning and thunder, startling Ronald into breaking their kiss, gasping as he sees the woman curled up in his arms. She's glowing from within, soft and golden as her hair, like a statue. Suddenly, she gasps, eyes blowing open, and Ronald stifles a scream when he sees that her eyes glow the brightest white he's ever seen. The words are lost in his throat as she turns to look at him.  
"Ron..."

* * *

Everything is hot, burning up, and she feels like her very soul is caught on fire as she stares up at the raining sky, rising from Ronald's arms. She can barely hear him, barely feel him, but she can see him, those tear-reddened green eyes. And that touch is leaving more and more by the second, and she's rising up from him, arms spread wide. She can feel his hand on hers, trying to tug her back, but the ethereal voice echoes in her head.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford," the voice calls, "Are you ready to give up all names but the first in exchange for a second life, one full of pain, suffering, and misfortune?"

 _'Liz, what are you doing_?' she hears Ronald call as she writhes above him, her muscles aflame with something she cannot know anything about, ' _Come back to me, Liz_!'

She releases a cry, a loud shriek as the heat rips through her veins, shredding her apart from within, the human body unable to handle this transformation. The faint gasp she hears from Ronald lets her know that he is fully aware of what she has consented to.

 _"NO!"_  she hears him shout, his hand tighten around hers, but she yanks it away with a fury.

"I want to live!" she screams, "I will live for him!" Ciel's face swims with Ronald's in her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks, mingling with the rain that pours from the sky. Thunder, lightning, all of it creates a symphony of chaos in her mind. One word flashes in her mind:

Reaper.

"You will be a reaper," the voice whispers, "You will be a lacky of God, a greeter for Death, you will fight creatures of all realms, both evil and good. And that scar..." she touches the raised white marks on her chest, tracing the mark left by Sebastian, "It will stay with you for as long as you exist. You will never be able to go home, you will forget your name, family, you must recognize that guardian angels are a lie and move on with your life, Elizabeth. Can you survive this?" She screams again in response, and she hears Grell joining Ronald as she twists in the air, clutching at her legs, stomach, for she's never thought that fire would hurt this much.

No longer human.

A reaper.

A  _monster_.

But she wants it.

She wants to leave her life behind.

Humanity does not suit her now. Neither does purgatory.

"I will go on," she shouts to the rain and wind, "I will live!"

The voice goes silent before speaking for the last time.

"As you will it."

Ropes of green fire wrap around her human body, but she does not burn. Ron and Grell's screaming grows weaker by the second as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she falls into darkness.

 _Finally_ , she thinks, her mind a haze of pain and utmost clarity,  _Something other than light_.

* * *

Ronald watches in abject horror as Elizabeth collapses onto the roof, the light leaving her body. Grell grips his shaking arm, eyes wide.

"I've never seen the process first hand," Grell whispers, "It's...it's horrifying. To think, we all went through that. Ronnie, Ronnie, is she breathing? Did she make it?" Ronald can't move, he's too scared to think of how he will react if she did, in fact, not make it.

"Do it for me," he whispers to Grell, "See if she's...if she made it. Please, Grell."

But, to his surprise, his closest friend shakes his head, placing a bloody hand on the small of his back, offering a soft, comforting smile to him.

"Ron, I'm not the first reaper she should see upon awakening. That's you. Ronnie, sweet, she'll want it to be you. Go."

Ronald quickly clasps Grell's hand in his in a tight squeeze, bringing it up to brush a quick kiss across the scraped knuckles. Treating Grell like a lady is the best way to thank his mentor. He looks utterly touched, genuinely smiling at him as he begins to take shaking steps towards Elizabeth's limp form.

Ronald kneels next to her, but sheds no tears, refusing to believe that she didn't survive the ordeal. Her soft, pale chest is mostly exposed, but he does not move to cover it up, for the demonic contract on her skin distracts him. It looks ancient now...just minutes ago it looked raw and bloodied. Now it looks like a scar, a brand, raised and whiter than white against the creamy color of her nonhuman skin

"Beautiful," he whispers, the words a ghost between his pale lips, "...Come back to me. A second chance. We could have it, we could take it and go, I want you to hear me say the words to you this time. I love you." There's no response; he can't tell if she's breathing or not, and the thought of never hearing her speak to him again after that brief glimmer of hope that she might come back. A broken noise escapes from his throat, full of pain and all the grief he's felt today.

"Please, oh God, I love you so much," he murmurs, weakly attempting to keep his voice steady, "I want you...I need you in my life, Elizabeth."

Nothing.

There are tears again, and he's wondering how he can manage to cry so much, for surely his tear ducts dried up an hour ago. He wraps his hand around her tiny, frail, cold one and grips tight, as if that could start blood pumping through her veins again, even though he knows that is impossible.

"Please," he sobs, squeezing his eyes shut, biting down on his lip, "Please Miss Liz."

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And then, so slight it might be imaginary...a little twitch of the fingers. She's holding his hand. He can feel her fingers, the soft pads of the tips, brushing against his palm, working to find a grip. There's no violence to her awakening, not like the last time when she rose into the air. She might've just been sleeping. Ronald can see the color coming back into her cheeks, a rosy flush spreading over her graceful visage as her lips part to allow air into her dead lungs, except they're not dead.

She's in a state of limbo...just like him.

When her eyes open, they're different. It's a nearly identical green to her human eyes, but the color's been laced with steel. They are reaper eyes.

 _This is truly happening_.

"I knew it'd be you," she exhales, her pinkening lips turning up at the corners into a happy, goofy smile, "Ron, I knew you'd come after me." Her expression changes to quizzical though as she reaches out to touch his face, squinting at him, "My eyes...what happened?" Ronald jumps, fumbling in his pocket and hoping that they aren't broken. He extracts a plain pair of glasses, his old ones from before he became a full-fledged reaper. With shaking hands that he wishes he could steady, Ronald pushes the glasses onto the bridge of her nose. They're old and clunky, far too big for her face, but, in his opinion, she's never looked more beautiful.

"You've been crying," she realizes, taking his face into her hands, "You cried for me."

"You died for me," he responds, "Or, I thought you did. Heh, Miss Liz, don't go scaring me like that, okay?" And of course she can see right through his attempts at humor; he's sure the fact that his voice still sounds raw from crying doesn't help, but she merely smiles softly.

"I can't promise that, Ron. After all," she taps the side of her ridiculous glasses, giving him a little smirk, "I am a reaper now, after all."

Before he can respond to that, Elizabeth grabs him by the torn shirt and pulls him down to meet her lips. She cranes her neck up to kiss him eagerly, giggling into the embrace as she wraps her arms around him and hugs tightly.

"I love you too," she whispers, "And I mean that."

Ronald sweeps her up off the ground, holding her tightly against him as her spins around on the wet roof, returning the kiss with all the eagerness of a schoolboy.

"I know, Miss Liz."

Their kiss is one meant for fairytales, storybooks, the kind poets write sonnets about, but Ronald can only focus on the fact that it's Lizzie kissing him like he's the only man in existence. Her lips feel warm, she feels like a human, kisses like one too, all earnest sincerity, and something tells him that she'll never shake that part of her. The human part. And, for both of their sakes, he hopes that he's right.

When they break apart, finally, Lizzie settles back onto the ground, carrying herself like a new woman. Her eyes shine brighter than ever before in the dim light of London, full of excitement at all the things she'll be able to do now. But first, she takes her first steps as a reaper towards Grell, who stands with a hand over his mouth, tears pricking at his own vibrant doesn't run and hug him, to Ronald's surprise, but curtseys low, casting her eyes down.

"I owe everything to you and Mr. Spears," she says, and Ronald swears he sees a tear drip from her face to join the rain on the roof, "I really do. And I don't think I'll ever be able to atone for being the reason for...for his death. I feel horrible Grell, I'm so sorry." Those are definitely tears, Ronald can tell, streaming from her new eyes. Definitely the tears of a human. Grell daintily wipes at his eyes, placing a hand beneath Lizzie's chin and motioning for her to stand once more.

"He believed that you were going to become something great. And so did I. William...William died nobly. And I'm not being dishonest when I say that he is in a better place now. All I ask of you, Miss Elizabeth," he says, kneeling next to William's corpse, tenderly brushing his mussed bangs back into order, "Is that you help me take him home."

Ronald moves to join the two of them, his mentor and his love, and joins hands with both of them.

"You were a brilliant reaper," he says, looking down at William T. Spears, "One of the greatest I'd ever known. I wish to make you proud. Not that you was ever one to be proud of silly slackers like me but, you know..." Grell cracks a smile, looking up at Ronald before scooping William up in his arms. Elizabeth takes his hand in hers, squeezing tightly, to reassure him that she is still alive.

"I think it's time to go home, Ronald," Grell whispers, heading for the stairs that lead down to Undertaker's shop.

"All three of us."


End file.
